


Amaurosis

by Sanshal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4233642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanshal/pseuds/Sanshal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seers are individuals blessed with some remarkable ability (think X-men) but are born blind (Amaurotic blindness is a marker for the Seers, in this world.). Most families have their "seer" children taken away at birth by the government. A few families avoid having their children born in the hospital and if they have a "seer" baby they try to hide them. The government raises the children to use their abilities and matches them up with hunters… Sadly, since most hunters become so after suffering from some personal tragedy; they are rarely known for their compassion. Seers tend to have a short life span, being mistreated, or used as bait or just getting killed by the thing that they are hunting.</p><p>Sam was lucky to escape being taken by the government at birth and then managed to stay off-grid. Once an adult, he managed to get in with an underground organization that helped seers from being caught.<br/>Dean is a hunter who has recently lost his seer and requires a replacement urgently; but he doesn't have the time or energy to deal with the Government. He has a contact who works with an organization that hides seers and strikes a deal to obtain one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amaurosis: Masterpost

 

Amaurosis 

\--------------------------------------------

  
written for the [](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/)**spn_j2_bigbang** **2015**  
  
**Genre:** Gen  
**Pairing:** Gen; Sam and Dean (UST)  
**Rating:** NC17  
**Word count:** 30k  
**Summary**

  
  
  
Seers are individuals blessed with some remarkable ability (think X-men) but are born blind (Amaurotic blindness is a marker for the Seers, in this world.). Most families have their "seer" children taken away at birth by the government. A few families avoid having their children born in the hospital and if they have a "seer" baby they try to hide them. The government raises the children to use their abilities and matches them up with hunters… Sadly, since most hunters become so after suffering from some personal tragedy; they are rarely known for their compassion. Seers tend to have a short life span, being mistreated, or used as bait or just getting killed by the thing that they are hunting.  
  


Sam was lucky to escape being taken by the government at birth and then managed to stay off-grid. Once an adult, he managed to get in with an underground organization that helped seers from being caught.

Dean is a hunter who has recently lost his seer and requires a replacement urgently; but he doesn't have the time or energy to deal with the Government. He has a contact who works with an organization that hides seers and strikes a deal to obtain one.

 

  
**Warnings**  
Mentions of disability, humiliation, self-esteem issues, Tons of angst, descriptions of violence, hurt/comfort.   Switching points of view.

**Acknowledgements**  
Well, there are a ton of people who made this fic possible, the first of whom are [](http://liverpool46.livejournal.com/profile)[**liverpool46**](http://liverpool46.livejournal.com/) who offered this lovely prompt in the first place. I'd also like to thank [](http://samanddeanfan1.livejournal.com/profile)[**samanddeanfan1**](http://samanddeanfan1.livejournal.com/) for her suggestions early on in the shaping of this fic. And of course, how can I forget my lovely beta [](http://shadowsong26.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://shadowsong26.livejournal.com/)**shadowsong26** without whom this story would be full of errors and plot holes. Thank you so much for being so sweet and helping me structure this fic- I really _really_ couldn't have done it without your ceaseless support and patient advice.  
And the amazing art by [](http://kaelysta.livejournal.com/profile)[**kaelysta**](http://kaelysta.livejournal.com/) has been the icing on the cake.

Also, here's a shoutout to [](http://wendy.livejournal.com/profile)[**wendy**](http://wendy.livejournal.com/) for organizing the Big Bang year after year. You're awesome.

**[Art- MasterPost](http://kaelysta.livejournal.com/69606.html) **

**(Go tell[](http://kaelysta.livejournal.com/profile)[ **kaelysta**](http://kaelysta.livejournal.com/) how amazing her work is!)**

**Fic- MasterPost:  
[On Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4228218)**

**On LJ:  
Chapters:**  
**[Prologue](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/34296.html)l ** **[1](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/33948.html) l [2](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/34318.html) l [3](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/34712.html) l [4](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/34970.html) l [5](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/35284.html) l [6](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/35477.html) l [Epilogue](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/35834.html)**

**Happy reading!**


	2. Amaurosis: Masterpost

**Prologue**

**Dean**  
“Don’t hurt them!”  
  
The voice rang out just as Dean stepped into the underground room, gun drawn. Taken aback by the fact that his arrival had evidently been anticipated, he raised his gun slowly; fingers off the trigger to show he was no threat. It was only when he turned to face whoever had spoken that he realized that his action had been meaningless.  
  
Watching the way the seer’s eyes flickered sightlessly about the room as the boy tried to figure out his location, he moved on hunter-soft feet till he was standing directly in front of the seer; biting back a grin when the boy’s eyes continued to flicker around.  
  
“Are you the one they call Sam?”  
  
The boy jumped at his softly spoken words, obviously not expecting his proximity. And then smiled, “I-... Not many people can sneak up on me.” The boy whispered, “And yes, I  _am_  Samuel.”  
  
Dean found himself momentarily lost in the adorable dimples before they were lost in the ducked head. He sobered, “You saw me coming?”  
  
A nod. “Don’t hurt them?”  
  
Dean found himself discovering newfound respect for this boy who seemed more concerned about the welfare of those guarding him than himself; but forced his voice to remain hard. “Only if you come with me,”  
  
“I will,”  
  
“Dean!”  
  
Both he and the boy jerked at the unexpected call, the hunter swivelling around to find his contact panting as he burst into the room, gun waving.  
  
“Put that down, Martin, I’ve got everything under control.” Dean told the older man, his own hand having instinctively clamped on Sam’s wrist.  
  
“No!” Martin insisted, his gun still raised, “You have no idea what these freaks are capable of, Dean-o. Here,”  
  
Dean caught the canvas bag tossed at him one-handed, peeking inside and wincing at the sight of manacles. “Martin...”  
  
“I’ll breathe a lot easier once you’ve got those on him, Dean-o.”  
  
Hating himself for his choice and feeling like a coward, Dean nodded; turning towards the seer as his thumb unconsciously rubbed soothing little circles in the tender skin at the boy’s wrist, “Just for a bit, alright?”  
  
The boy nodded, “Don’t hurt-”  
  
“No one’s getting hurt unless you stop co-operating,” Dean told him; snapping on the handcuffs and watching the boy recoil at the feel of cold steel.

**Sam**  
Sam nodded, unseeing hazel eyes brimming with tears as a steel loop was fastened around his neck and linked to his bound hands. For the first time in his twenty-one years, Sam was glad that Seers were robbed of sight because that meant his friends couldn’t see what was being done to him.  
  
“Easy,” A voice whispered to him and hands grazed down his body till they came to his feet. He trembled as he felt cold steel snap around his ankles as well and had to bite his cheek to keep from giving voice to his terror.  
  
“Good boy,” The voice murmured, taking his hand and urging him forward.  
  
He was unable to hide his wince at the clanging of the numerous chains binding him as he moved, knowing he would never return again- never hear Andy’s silly jokes or Ava’s soft laughter.  
  
The hunter leading him paused, “You want to say your goodbyes?”  
  
 _That... that was unexpected._  
  
“No,”  _‘Goodbye’ sounded so final..._  
  
“Okay then. Let’s blow this popsicle stand, yeah, Sammy?”  
  
“Wait!” He called out, and then hesitated, “C-ca-can I bring my things?”  
  
He felt the hunter hesitate, “What kind of things?”  
  
Sam jerked his head towards where he thought his bag was, “My duffel... it’s just some clothes and personal effects; nothing more. I promise.”  
  
“I’ll have to check...”  
  
“You can; it’s just zippered; no lock.” He hurried to explain.  
  
There was silence and then he heard the sound of a zipper being undone; there was a vague rustling and then warm hands were at his shoulders again, “Alright, let’s go.”  
  
Sam’s heart sank, “My-my bag?”  
  
“I’ve got it. Now c’mon.”

**Dean**  
Dean paused when he felt his captive stutter to a halt once they emerged from the underground, watching as the boy raised his face to the crisp air- eyes closed as he inhaled deeply.  
  
“Move it, freak!” Martin growled as he rammed the butt of his shotgun into the boy’s back.  
  
“Hey, watch it!” Dean retorted as he caught the boy who had stumbled at the unanticipated blow.  
  
“Whatever,” The older man mumbled, “I got you what you wanted, just gimme my money and I’m off,”  
  
Dean nodded, moving Sam’s bag to his shoulder as he dug through his pocket for his wallet before throwing the wad of bills towards the older man and extending his hand for a farewell handshake.  
  
Martin was too busy counting the bills to check if he had been short-changed to respond to Dean’s offer of a handshake. By the time the man looked up, Dean had retracted his hand. Martin nodded once and then climbed into his truck without a word.  
  
Dean watched the dusty red truck drive off before he faced the seer again. “Guess it’s just us, Sammy,”

**Sam**  
 _No one had called him Sammy before._  
  
And this man apparently insisted on the nickname given how he’d already used it twice in fifteen minutes. Not sure if he was meant to respond, he gave a silent nod.  
  
Warm callused hands took his again as they led him.  
  
“This lovely lady is my Baby,” The hunter continued, placing his hand on smooth metal.  
  
Taking the hint, Sam allowed his fingers to caress the elegant lines till he felt the door, “What is she?”  
  
And although he couldn’t see, it wasn’t hard to imagine the other man grinning as he answered, “1967 Chevy Impala,”  
  
Sam nodded.  _Apparently, his hunter was a fan of classic cars._ “Colour?”  
  
“Black,”  
He heard the unspoken ‘duh’ and settled in; jumping when the Detroit steel behemoth came to life with a throaty growl accompanied by the opening notes of Highway to Hell.  
  
 _Of course the man had to complete the cliché and be a fan of heavy metal as well!_  
  


**Dean**  
Dean watched Sam settle into the passenger seat as though it had been made for him and shook his head.  _Unless he watched himself, this kid would end worming his way under his skin and into his heart without even trying. And after Cas..._  
  
For someone who had just been uprooted from everything he had ever known, Sam was dealing remarkably well. He watched the skin around the boy’s eyes tighten whenever the chains jangled with his movement, but the boy didn’t protest. Pulling into the parking lot for the nearest PACMan (Paranormal Activity Control and Management); Dean took a minute to simply breathe before stepping out. He glanced at his passenger and froze as the boy reminded him of...  _but that was impossible._  
  
He shook his head, annoyed at himself as he stepped out and went round the car to fetch the seer.  
  
“Easy,” Dean murmured, opening the passenger door and leaning across the boy’s torso to undo the seatbelt before guiding him out with a cushioning hand over the top of his head to ensure he didn’t hit the door on his way out, “We’ll get you registered and then be on our way, okay?”


	3. Amaurosis: Chapter-1

 

**Chapter-1**

  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam froze at the words. _Registered?!_

They had all heard the horror stories about PACMan and realizing that this hunter was intent on taking him there was enough to smash through his facade of calmness.

“No! Ple-please?”

“Easy, Kiddo,” The man whispered, obviously not understanding his panic, “It’s going to be alright,”

Breathing deeply and compelling himself to accept (read: believe) the hunter; Sam forced himself into compliance.

 

 

He jumped when rough hands grabbed him the moment they stepped through the door; hoping his hunter was following when he was pulled into a room whose temperature seemed to be set at freezing.  He could hear barked commands all around him, but the cacophony made it hard to focus on the words. He relaxed when the chains were undone from around his neck and wrists; but before he could thank them, a bit was forced into his mouth, bruising his lips. Terrified at being gagged, he tried to reach out; hoping to locate his hunter ( _Dean, his hunter was called Dean...)_ but his hands were caught and twisted behind his back as he felt someone step up to his face.

“Now hold still unless you want me to accidentally cut you; Freak,”

Sam froze at the words, the threat not bothering him as much as the insult. He hoped Dean didn’t share this man’s opinion but so far he knew too little about the hunter to trust the man implicitly.

He jerked at the sharp tearing sound before he felt his clothes being cut off.

“Umph!”

“Hold still!” A different voice ordered, the hands holding him immobile tightening.

Every molecule in him wanted to curl up in humiliation as he was completely undressed. He tried to bring up one leg to cover himself, but the foot was gripped and forced back down. Before he could try again, his ankles were cuffed again and this time the manacles were apparently bolted to the floor instead of each-other because he couldn’t move at all. He screamed when a latex covered hand worked itself between his tightly clenched thighs and cold metal snapped around the base of his scrotal sac. Twisting helplessly from the chains that held his arms high above his head, he screamed in helpless terror and anger; not that it helped because the gag muffled his voice effectively until only the barest whimpers remained. Despite the humiliating vulnerability of his position, he found himself glad when the faceless cruel hands disappeared. Some sort of cloth was wrapped around his waist and he found himself grateful for that little reprieve.

He knew better than to relax by now, though and tensed again at the sound of a machine whirring to life behind him. Fingers wound themselves in his thick shoulder length hair and yanked his head backwards till he felt the tendons in his neck straining. Anticipating a blow or a collar or _something_ from his front; he jerked when he heard the ‘ _snip’_ of a pair of scissors and felt his hair being cut. Although it didn’t hurt; his hair had been the one thing he’d rebelled to keep long against the group’s rules and it broke something inside him to know that he would be losing it.

“Hey!”

The snip-snip of the merciless scissors stopped and Sam allowed himself to sag in the chains holding him up at the familiar voice.

Footsteps neared and warm thumbs brushed away the tears that had leaked from his sightless eyes, “What is happening here?”

“Shaving his head... you don’t want to have to deal with the Freak’s messy hair; do you?”

Sam whimpered.

“His name is _Sam_. And no, I don’t mind having to brush his hair twice a day.” Dean answered, thumbs rubbing in gentle circles at his nape.

“I’m guessing you don’t want him neutered either?”

Sam cringed at the question; metal clanging loudly as he tried to bring his bound legs closer together.

“No,” Dean’s reply was instantaneous.

“You are aware that these freaks tend to work better if they have less distractions, don’t you?” A different voice enquired and Sam couldn’t help the involuntary shiver that ran through him at the icy voice.

Dean’s hands tugged lightly at his head till he could rest his forehead against the hunter’s tense shoulder. It wasn’t exactly comfortable being bent forward like that but a muscular arm curled around his midsection protectively and Sam realised that Dean had felt him trembling. The man’s arm was covered in some smooth material and he could smell grease mixed with the faint scent of sweat and Old Spice along with something he couldn’t quite identify wafting from the hunter... _It felt strangely familiar._

“Yes; but considering that _I_ am the one going to be responsible for Sam’s upkeep, I think that should be my decision; don’t you?” He heard Dean argue.

The loud grumbling told Sam that the men weren’t happy about being overruled but he was relieved when it appeared that Dean would indeed have the final say.

“What about diapers?... or are you willing to help the freak.. sorry, _Sam_ with that as well?”

The seer stiffened at the implication but relaxed at the soothing hand stroking over his back.

“I have enough of those left over from my last boy,” Dean told them.

“Then... just one for the road?”

Sam hoped Dean would refuse this as well, but stayed pliant as the testicle cuffs were removed and an adult-diaper was forced up his legs before he was helped into soft pants and a cotton tee-shirt. Assuming he would be released into Dean’s care; he jumped when he was bent over a hard surface instead and the sweatpants tugged down to bare his lower back. He couldn’t help the muffled scream when an electric brand marked him and stiffened when Dean’s gun-callused hands reached for him. But it appeared as though they were finally done because Dean simply helped him straighten and removed the gag from between his teeth before guiding him outside.

 

Neither man spoke as they walked back to the Impala.

 

  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean watched the drying tear tracks marring the boy’s face from the corner of his eyes and contemplated how very different the atmosphere had been prior to the registration. The seer wasn’t being particularly noisy or distracting; but the silent aura of suffering wasn’t much of an improvement in his opinion.

“We gotta do something ‘bout your hair,”

The boy jerked at his sudden voice, unseeing eyes focussing in his general direction as he turned towards him; face awash with fear and dismay.

Taken aback by the reaction, Dean thought back on his words and sighed as he understood how they could be misinterpreted. He reached out one-handed to caress the crudely shorn locks at Sam’s nape in an effort to wordlessly soothe and watched the boy freeze. Sam didn’t flinch away from the touch but he was clearly _enduring_ it simply to avoid further punishment.

“Easy,” He found himself whispering, something in him uncoiling as the boy relaxed marginally, “I just meant that right now your hair looks worse than if a three-year old had decided to act as your stylist. Once we stop, I could maybe bring it to some decent shape? Even it out, at least... if- if it’s okay with you...”

Sam ran a shaky hand through his shorn locks and grimaced at the unevenness of it before nodding, “Yes, please... thank you.”

Dean nodded, squeezing lightly once before bringing his hand back to the steering wheel. He faltered for a second before deciding to speak up, “I- I won’t allow you to keep your hair as long as it was, Sammy...”

The harsh inhale had him hastily adding, “But – but I won’t make you shave it all off either, alright?... it’s just that long hair makes for an easy grip, you know? Can’t let the monsters get you. ”

The seer’s lips tilted up slightly at the corners at the explanation but he stayed mute as he nodded his understanding.

“And uh... as long as your uhm... ‘me-time’ doesn’t interfere with our hunt, I...” He broke off, coughing in discomfort, “Well, just ensure that it doesn’t interfere with our hunt, alright?” He scratched his ear uncomfortably, hoping the seer understood what he’d been trying to say despite his rambling.

Sam nodded, hesitated briefly before finally speaking, “If... if we are negotiating; I- I don’t want to be forced into diapers...please...”

Dean glanced from the corner of his eyes to see the flush on the boy’s cheek and swallowed, “Hunters don’t have a permanent address for you to be able to memorize the layout of, Sammy-”

“You could take me!” The boy burst out; voice an octave higher in his desperation.

“I-” Dean stuttered, “You want me to...?”

“I’m a big boy, Mr. Hunter-”

“Dean,”

“Dean,” Sam obediently repeated, “You’d just have to direct me to the bathroom; I can handle the rest by myself... So please? Or- or-or you could get me a stick and I could feel my way around? You’d just have to tell me left or right at the most...”

“Fine!” Dean snapped, the boy’s frantic words crawling like ants under his skin. It reminded him uncomfortably of another person... _decades ago..._ that had had the same ability. Knowing he was going to give in and not happy that he as apparently so easy to convince; his tone was short as he conceded:  “I won’t force you into diapers.”

 

  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam stiffened as he felt the car rumble to a stop, wondering what it was going to be this time. He felt the door next to him creak open and turned his head in anticipation.

“C’mon,” A guiding hand wrapped itself just above his elbow, “it’s food time,”

He nodded; wordlessly following the hunter to what he assumed was a roadside diner given the overwhelming scent of grease and coffee assailing his nose and the fact that he hadn’t felt the impala drive over anything other than the highway they’d been on.

“Careful, there are a couple of steps ahead. Shallow; about four inches each, but about a foot deep.” A soft voice whispered into his ear and Sam acknowledged with a grateful nod. He appreciated the precise description, manoeuvring them with ease when Dean’s hand squeezed lightly to indicate them. He let the hunter guide him to a table and sat down when nudged, heard the scrape of a chair being pulled out opposite and assumed Dean had opted to sit facing him instead of beside.

“Good afternoon, Welcome to _Fire in the Belly_. I’m Sally and I shall be your server today. So, what can I get you, Sir?” A practiced pleasant voice greeted and Sam smiled automatically in greeting.

“A coffee and ... umm...a Caesar Salad, if you have it? Dean?”

There was a sudden silence at his words and he fidgeted uncomfortably, “I’m so-sorry; were you not asking me?” He asked hesitantly.

“She was,” Dean’s voice broke the awkward pause, “I’ll have a double cheeseburger with extra onions and coffee. And a side of fries.”

“Very well, Sir. So that will be a double cheeseburger with extra onions, fries and coffee-” She parroted back the order in confirmation.

“You forgot his Caesar Salad. And that would be two coffees, please.” Dean amended.

“Oh!” The waitress- _Sally-_ stammered, “I didn’t realize... of course, Sir.”

 

  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean had been taken aback when Sam had spoken up; far too used to Cas’s silent presence; but composed himself quickly when he realized that having not been raised at the PACMan facility, Sam didn’t _know_ enough to be afraid yet. He watched the boy pale when the waitress so obviously ignored him and felt an unfamiliar need to protect rise up in him. Eager to wipe the look of misery from that face, he found himself interrupting the girl curtly and smiled in satisfaction when he saw Sam offer him a faded version of his smile in return.

With the waitress gone, silence reigned at the table again, and Dean wracked his mind to think of something to break the ice with till he saw the way Sam kept relaxing back before wincing and hunching forward again.

“The brand bothering you?”

“A little, it’s okay,”

“Remind me to take a look at it later, alright? Don’t want an infection setting in,”

“Of course not,” The boy retorted before frowning, “S’rry... that was uncalled for,”

“Was it?” Dean found himself questioning, pausing when Sally appeared with their food and continuing only when she disappeared. “I mean, I did kind of kidnap you...”

“You wouldn’t have had to if I had registered like I was supposed to,” Sam shot back.

“Woah!” Dean interrupted, “I take you from your home or whatever and get you chipped and branded like a pet and you’re blaming _yourself_?”

The seer grinned; dimples peeking as he neatly forked some salad into his mouth, “What can I say- I’ve got shitty self-esteem,”

“Apparently,” Dean growled back in mock anger but figured Sam understood he was joking when the dimples didn’t fade.

 

**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Things were relaxed between them by the time Dean got them into a motel later that day; Sam standing silently as the inn-keeper hurried to provide them the key for the room they had for Hunters. Sam found himself wondering what could be different about a room set aside for hunters apart from the fact that it was obviously at a concession rate as per the laws governing hunting; but when Dean guided him back to car and drove for what had to be longer than normal; he guessed that it also meant more privacy. On reflection, it was natural for Hunters to demand better privacy given that they might have to prepare spells or incantations for their hunts. Also, in case they were injured and needed space for recuperation.

Dean guided him inside and Sam remained where he had been positioned till he heard Dean return with their duffels.

“There’re two beds on your left; three steps. The one closest to the door is mine; you can have the other one. Bathrooms on the right; about  umm... eleven steps from where you’re standing: two straight ahead away from me, one-eighty degree; and then nine to the right. There’s also a desk against the wall; about a foot from the bathroom door. And a chair with it.”

Sam nodded his understanding in response to the clear description; having a fairly good idea of what the room looked like now from Dean’s words. He hurried to the bathroom to remove the diaper that had been forced on him and took a shower before changing into sweats. Dean demanded to see the brand once he emerged; and though he wasn’t fond of the idea, he obeyed- stretching out on the bed with his shirt rucked up and pants loosened for Dean to smear ointment on the burn. He was glad when the hunter remained professional about it, not indulging in name-calling or unwanted caresses.

“Dean?”

“Hmmm?” The hunter hummed, fingers carefully working the gel into the irritated skin.

“About the – the brand... is it a umm- is it a symbol of some kind?”

“It’s my name,” was the curt answer.

He traced his own finger lightly in a line above the brand and frowned, “Feels longer than just four letters...”

“Winchester.” The older man growled, “It reads Winchester.”

He twisted to glance up at that even though the action was futile, “You’re _Dean_ _Winchester_?”

The hunter wordlessly grumbled as the movement dislodged the bandage he was trying to cover the brand with and pressed a hand between his shoulders to force him immobile while he completed his task. Only once he was done did he speak up, “Yes. You’ve... heard of me?”

Sam nodded; relaxing as callused fingers brushed against his skin briefly as Dean tugged lightly on his tee to cover him again, “Yeah... Your father’s supposed to be some kind of legend in the hunting world.”

Even without seeing, he could imagine Dean’s smile at his words, “Yeah...He’s... he’s a good hunter.”

“They say you take after him.”

“They do?” Dean asked; surprise evident in his voice.

Sam nodded; smiling at the blush he was sure that painted Dean’s cheeks, “ _They do_.”

 

  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean woke to the sensation of fingers brushing across his cheeks with a butterfly light caress and was instantly pulling out the knife he slept with, pausing only when he registered the hitched gasp as Sam’s as the cold metal touched his vulnerable throat.

“Damnnit!” He cursed, withdrawing the blade and flopping back again, “I could’ve killed you, dude!”

“Well,” The seer answered softly, his voice light even though Dean could hear the tendril of fear travelling through it, “You wouldn’t be much of a hunter if your reflexes were that bad, would you?”

And Dean couldn’t stop the startled laugh that erupted from him at that. He switched on the bedside lamp and watched the boy flinch in reaction. He frowned.

“The light bothers you?”

“No,” Sam shook his head, “Just wasn’t expecting it after the dark,”

“Thought you couldn’t see...” Dean trailed off uneasily.

“I can’t,” The boy agreed, “But my pupils react to it the same as yours. Seer blindness is idiopathic.”

“Huh,” Dean answered, _he hadn’t known that-_ “What’re you doing out of bed in the first place?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” The boy answered easily enough, pulling up his feet to sit cross-legged on Dean’s bed.

“So you what... decided to wake me as well?” He grumbled good-naturedly, trying not to give away his surprise at how comfortable Sam appeared to be around him.

Sam shook his head, “Wanted to see you,”

 _“See_ me?” Dean repeated dumbly, “Thought you needed eyes for that,” Then he winced at how callous that sounded.

Sam only laughed, “The blind can see too,” He wriggled his fingers in demonstration.

“Oh,”

“So... can I? Please? I’d really like to know how my hunter looks...”

Dean tried not to notice how easily the possessive adjective slipped off Sam’s tongue in regard to him and nodded mutely before remembering he needed to respond aloud, “Yeah, okay. What d’ya want me to do?”

“Umm... are you really cold enough for a blanket?” Sam questioned, tugging lightly at the quilt that covered him.

“No...”

“Great; then I’ll start at your feet. And you don’t have to do anything other than just lie there and take it, alright?”

Dean nodded; freezing when Sam pushed the covers off him and scooted down the bed to pull his left leg into his lap; firm fingers rubbing over the soles and cataloguing the arch of his foot before moving up to trace the gaps between his toes and the shape of his toe-nails. It didn’t feel bad exactly, more ticklish than anything else and he tried to relax into the sensations.

Sam’s fingers moved up to his ankles and he shivered as the boy’s big hand encircled it with ease; taking in the diameter.  He felt the bones grind together lightly under the grip and bit his lip to keep from protesting; not wanting to give voice to how vulnerable it made him feel that Sam was able to wrap his hands around the delicate bones. Fortunately; before it got to be too much, Sam was working his way up his leg, feeling the tight swell of his calf muscles and the scarring on his right knee as he traced the thin skin covering his patella. He worked his hands up his thighs, working the muscle gently.

“You have strong legs,” The seer murmured.

“Um-hmm,” Dean mumbled; at a loss for a more eloquent reply. He twitched violently when the fingers moved to his inner thigh without warning, but before he could protest, he felt Sam chuckling.

“What?”

“Your legs have a slight outward bow; did you know that?”

Dean blushed; remembering the taunts he’d endured in his teens for his bow-legs.

“It’s perfect!”

That... _that was different_.

“ _Perfect?_ ”

“Um-hmm,” The boy answered, “I can fit perfectly in here...”

And before Dean could respond, the boy had curled up against him, yanking Dean’s leg up to curl around his waist.

“Umm... gr- great,” Dean croaked, silently cursing the boy’s innocence as he held himself motionless in the far too intimate ( _for his liking, anyway)_ embrace. But Sam was already sitting up again.

“Not done yet!”

Dean groaned.

The boy chuckled, patting his chest in mock condescension and whispering, “Poor hunter... just a little more, alright?”

“Hmm,” Dean managed, stiffening as inquisitive fingers brushed way too close to the bulge in his boxers and cursing his decision to sleep in just a tee-shirt and boxer-briefs.  Fortunately, Sam’s hands remained primly away from his privates and curled around his Apollo’s girdle instead; feeling the sharp ridge of bone under the thin scarred skin.

A thumb brushed over the jagged remains of the wound, stroking softly, “What happened?”

“Wendigo,” Dean answered curtly.

Sam nodded as if he understood and moved up, hands slipping under his shirt without his permission and tracing around the indentation of his belly-button as he questioned lightly, “Let me continue?”

Dean hated that he didn’t have it in him to refuse those puppy-dog eyes. Grudgingly lifting himself on his elbows, he swiftly discarded the shirt and lay back down, shivering lightly at the chill from the air-conditioner.

Sam’s fingers brushed across the exposed skin in broad sweeping strokes; pausing as they encountered every scar but he didn’t question Dean further on their history. He paused when he reached Dean’s shoulders _\- the hunter giving a sigh of unexpected pleasure at the massage-like sensation on the taut muscles_ ; and bent to brush an impulsive kiss at the little divot that marked the joint between his trapezius and deltoid muscles.

“I think I may be a little in love with your shoulders,” Sam whispered.

Dean stiffened; unused to such expressions.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” The boy questioned, sitting back on his heels even though his fingers continued to rub in tight little circles on Dean’s skin.

“Uh... no... no; just- just surprised, you know?” Dean choked out.

Sam sighed, his pointer finger tracing the corded muscle as he spoke, “They just feel so powerful; you know? Like they could take the weight of the entire world and not shatter.”

Dean snorted in disbelief.

“They make me feel safe,”

 _That_... that silenced him.

 

 

“You... you feel safe with me?” He asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

“Um-hmm... safer than I’ve felt in my entire life.”

Dean scrunched his eyes shut at the confession, “You shouldn’t.” He told the boy curtly.

“ _Why_?”

 

**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
“Why?” Sam asked, taken aback by the ... _guilt_ he could hear in the hunter’s voice. The question had obviously been unexpected because there was no answer from the older (- _he assumed_ ) man for long minutes.

The answer when it came was harsh: “Because I don’t _deserve_ your trust!”

“But you haven’t done anything to not deserve it either,” He countered.

“Ugh!” The hunter grumbled in exasperation.

Sam grinned- few people could win an argument against him.

 “Just... just go to bed; alright?”

“What about your back?”

“What about my back?”

“I’m yet to see it.” He reminded.

He felt the hunter debate refusing him but ultimately the man simply rolled over to grant him access, muttering “Hurry up.”

 

He finished his explorations; noting the myriad scars that covered the body prone before him and felt his respect build for this man who had obviously endured so much already. He sat back on his heels once he was done, unsure if the hunter had fallen asleep or not.

“Get some sleep; I’m not letting you sleep in just because you chose to imitate an owl tonight,”

_Guess that answered his question._

“Not sleepy!” He grumbled.

“Shut up and get your ass in bed, you brat,” Dean retorted; voice muffled from how his face was mashed against his pillows, “Here, you can share my bed tonight since you obviously fit so perfectly next to me.”

Sam knew the words were meant to be a tease about his former remarks but couldn’t help but think how true it was. Dean tugged him down till he was sprawled on his side and then curled up behind him, trapping him beneath a heavy leg thrown across his own.

“Is... _Is this okay?”_

Sam smiled to himself at that- further evidence that for all his brash mannerisms, his hunter was actually a gentle soul.

“I expect you to find me a hunt tomorrow; alright?”

He sighed; closing his eyes briefly and sending out his senses to find something amiss. When he opened them again he had his answer (and the usual headache that accompanied the use of his sight.)

“There are two; werewolf and poltergeist- which one do you wanna do?”

He felt the body behind him stiffen briefly before it relaxed again, “You’re good, aren’t you?”

He blushed at the praise, trying to alleviate the dull throbbing at his temples as discretely as possible.

_Of course he wasn’t successful._

 

“Headache?”

He shrugged.

“You get headaches when you use your sight?”

_Wow; the hunter was pretty insightful, actually..._

“Um-hmm,”

“Cas used to get these terrible back pains...” Dean whispered, his thumbs pressing down in gentle rotating motions at his temples.

_Mmmm... that felt surprisingly good..._

“Cas... was your last Seer?”

Dean sighed, “Yes,”

“Did you have a lot of them before me?”

“No, Cas had been my first.”

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, hearing the undercurrent of grief in the hunter’s voice.

“Not your fault,”

“Well, I’m sure you did in everything in your power to help him,” He told him but a sinister voice questioned if Dean really had done _everything_ he could- because after all, how often had he heard of Seers being used for bait?

“Sleep,” Dean told him; fingers continuing their massage.

He was nearly asleep when he heard the low drawl again, “Sammy; tell me that you didn’t go snooping into the cupboards here before you woke me?”

He shook his head, too cosy to bother with replying aloud but he put the words into his mental folder to check the cupboards at next chance he got.

 

**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
The boy had been fast asleep when Dean awoke; the bright morning sun surprising him since he hadn’t slept so deeply or for so long since...  
_Since._

Carefully detangling himself from the body next to him, he headed to the bathroom; taking his time to shave and shower before emerging in a cloud of steam- _the water pressure at this motel was awesome-_ and froze.

Sam stood in front of the built-in cupboard that came with the room. And the cupboard was open.

“Damnit, Sam!” He grumbled.

The boy flinched at his curse but turned to offer him the smooth leather of the strap, “Want to tell me something, Dean?”

He snatched it away from those unblemished fingers and banged the closet shut before glaring at the defiant boy, “Hunters are allowed to correct and discipline their Seers at their own discretion. You _know_ that.”

“Did you?”

“What?” He ground out, unreasonably angry.

“Did you _discipline_ Cas?”

Dean stiffened, “Cas never _needed_ any correction. I am hoping neither will you.”

 

  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
_  
(  
__EVENING )_  
Sam groaned softly as Dean guided him inside the impala with a hand above his head, his uninjured hand busy holding a handkerchief to his gushing nose. He relaxed minutely once he was within the confines of the car; the now-familiar scent of grease, – _what he now knew was ammunition_ and - _Dean_ calming him. He scooted forward so that he could lean his head against the backrest without putting a crick in his neck.

“On a scale of ten, how bad ‘sit?”The hunter queried, his voice a soft rumble as though he knew Sam’s head was bothering him.

“My headache? A seven, I guess.” He shrugged just as a police car or ambulance went by; horns blaring. He winced, “Damn... make that an eight.”

Cool fingers worked themselves under the neckline of his shirts and massaged gently, “Hold on, alright? The motel’s not far now.”

Sam nodded, squeezing his eye shut and leaning into that gentle caress.

 

The day had gone by surprisingly companionably once Dean was done grilling him about the details of the poltergeist hunt. He had been intent on leaving Sam back in the room itself but Sam had wheedled and coaxed and used his infamous ‘puppy-eyes’ (as Dean termed them) till the older man had relented. He had driven them to the address and walked into the house with strict orders for Sam to _stay-in-the-car_. And Sam had intended to do just that... till he’d had that vision.

He’s _seen_ Dean get crushed by ten-foot antique oak cabinet and forgotten all orders; rushing after his hunter blindly. His terrified ‘ _Dean!’_ had had the hunter abandoning whatever he had been doing and rushing towards him; making the poltergeist miss his target. Infuriated by the miss; it focussed on the cause that had made it miss. It helped that Seers were natural targets for all kinds of supernatural activities.

The little ‘adventure’ ended with Sam’s left thumb swollen to twice its size; an inch-long shallow scrape on the same forearm, a sprained ankle and his head pounding. To put it mildly; his hunter had not been pleased.

 

He limped to the room with Dean’s help; blushing as the man stumbled slightly under his weight but didn’t comment. Sam sank gratefully on the bed when the hunter lowered him; fluffing the pillows behind him to prop him up before snatching a pillow off his own bed to support his sprained ankle.

Then the man left him briefly only to return with something cool- _he assumed it was ice-_ wrapped in a soft cloth of some type which he bound to his injured foot. Then his thumb was tended to in a similar fashion and the cut cleaned - _he hissed at the touch of peroxide which had Dean teasing him lightly_ ; and bandaged. It was only after that, that the hunter swiped delicately at the remains of blood from his nosebleed and offered him an advil.

“Doesn’t help,” He murmured, sinking further into the cosy cocoon Dean had built for him.

“At all?” The words were softly spoken; the pitch modulated just right that it didn’t make the headache flare.

He shrugged.

“Think you can eat something? A little soup, maybe?”

He nodded uncertainly; willing to try.

“I’ll be back with some soup, then. Try to sleep it off in the meanwhile; if you can.”

He nodded, closing his eyes tiredly and smiling when the lights were dimmed. He was awakened some indeterminate amount of time later; the pain in his head down to a low throb and Dean helped him sit up a little before spooning soup into his mouth.

“Not a kid,” He mumbled but opened his mouth obediently when the next spoonful was offered. He heard the hunter chuckle softly but he didn’t comment further till Sam had – _he assumed-_ finished the bowlful of broth.

“Good boy,”

He blushed at the praise.

“C’mon, I’ll help you to the bathroom and once you’re done, you can go back to sleep; alright?”

He nodded his understanding, feeling his cheeks heat up at how dependant he’d become on this man who he’d known for barely more than twenty-four hours.

Once he was back in bed, Dean repositioned the ice packs and tucked him in; then perched next to him and stroked his hair till he fell asleep.

 

  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean woke to a strange thrumming that seemed to make the very walls of their little motel vibrate. Instinctively grabbing his knife, he flipped on the lights before padding to his duffel and retrieving the EMF meter.

“Sam?”  He hissed.

_No answer._

“Sammy!” A little louder.

_No answer._

“Damn it...” He growled to himself, glancing at the awkwardly sprawled form and noticing for the first time the pain lines around the boy’s face.  
Another arc of the EMF relieved the same results as the last two checks- _which was nothing,_ and hurried over to shake the boy gently, “Hey... hey, wake up, Kiddo.”

“Mmh...” Sam scrunched his face briefly before turning towards him. “Dean?”

“You alright?” The hunter checked.

“Umhmm... why, what’s wrong?”

“I dunno,” Dean admitted, “Something got past the wards.”

“What?!”

“Every picture frame in this place was shaking... and there was this odd... _thrumming,_ you know? I’m guessing a spi-...” He trailed off when Sam ducked his head briefly and his eyes glowed blue, “Sam?”

The boy closed his eyes and when he opened them again, the blue-flare had receded, “There’s nothing here.”

Dean swallowed, unsure how comfortable he was at the absolute certainty in the Seer’s voice.

“Dean?”

He shook off the discomfort, reminding himself that the Seer had done nothing to hurt him so far. “Alright.”

“ _Alright?”_ The boy repeated dumbly.

“Yeah. ... I-uhm... I believe you.”

 

[ **Next** ](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/34318.html)


	4. Amaurosis: Chapter-2

** Chapter-2 **

  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**

Sam woke achy and tired after a fitful night. They had both retired once again after Dean had confirmed that he believed Sam, but the Seer had been unable to lose himself to sleep. He limped to the bathroom to finish his morning ablutions and wondered if his hunter had noticed his irritability.

As the day progressed; it became apparent that Dean hadn’t.

 

Now that he had been assured that his _investment_ was safe; the hunter apparently felt no need to mollycoddle him as he had the previous night in the immediate aftermath of the hunt. The older man had torn into him for not following orders to remain in the car the previous day and while Sam knew that he could possibly assign the harsh words to worry and concern over his well being; the ... frankly _cruel-_ comments told him otherwise _. ‘You’ll be nothing more than just another weapon in their cache’-_ Sam remembered being told. He hated that _they_ appeared to have been right.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled for the thousandth time.

“Sorry doesn’t help!”  Dean retorted, “When I tell you to do something, you do it? Understand?!”

He nodded.

Unfortunately that turned out to be the wrong thing to do because his silence infuriated the hunter even more, “I _said,_ do. _you. understand_?”

“Yes... sir.” He whispered.

“What did you call me?!” Dean growled, “Are you sassing me, boy?”

Sam let out a frustrated giggle at that, because far as he understood, Dean was not all that much older than him. He let out a startled little yelp when he was bodily lifted up and slammed into the motel wall.

“Ow!”

The grip on his shirt collar loosened and he heard the harsh breathing of the hunter before he leaned up to rest his forehead against Sam’s in a surprisingly gentle move given his earlier action and Sam felt the soft, warm exhales against his lips.

“I should take you over my knee,” The hunter grumbled but there was no malice behind the words.

Sam relaxed, something telling him that the hunter wasn’t planning on enacting his threat, “You wouldn’t dare,”

Callused hands curved to cup his jaw, “May be you’d be wishing I would once I’m done with you...”

Sam raised his chin in silent challenge and heard the man chuckle.

 

And so he found himself with headphones taped to his head (not literally, thankfully; - _although Dean had threatened to do that literally if he disobeyed)_ , playing the exorcism rite in a loop for him to memorize. He briefly found himself wondering what Dean was up to outside the car he’d ordered Sam to remain in but was quickly brought back by the loud ‘ _audi nos’_ as the exorcism ended. He wondered if it was significant that the voice rose to a crescendo and picked up as the ritual progressed till that (nearly screamed) finish.

Sam stiffened when he heard the creak of the heavy door of the impala being eased open but didn’t turn to face whoever had opened the door. A hand landed on his shoulder, “Sammy,”

He turned, “Yeah?”

Dean carefully extracted the ear phones and took the walkman cradled in his hands before taking his hand and tugging lightly. Sam obediently stepped out of the car, lifting his face to appreciate the crisp air and the mild warmth of the sun.

“I’ve come to realize that unlike Cas, you are not going to just blindly follow my orders- whatever they may be...”

“Didn’t realize you wanted a mindless automaton...” Sam grumbled under his breath, hating the unvocalized reprimand he heard in the words.

“NO, I _don’t_ want an automaton, Sammy. And it’s good, in a way; I suppose... just- just not right now. Not when you’re untrained.”

“Untrained?”

“ _Untrained_ ,” Dean confirmed, “Look, in a regular life, the fact that you cannot see is an obstacle, but a minor one. You can overcome it... but frankly? That’s not our life, Sammy. Hunting is unpredictable and risky when you’re at hundred percent; so your blindness is...”

“A handicap, I get it.” Sam finished quietly, hating the catch in his voice.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Warm hands grabbed his shoulders, “But not an insurmountable one...So; ummm... I’ve constructed this- this maze, alright? You have to make your way across-”

“You’ll keep me with you if I manage this?” He asked.

“I’m keeping you with me either way, Sammy. But if you manage this, I’ll consider _NOT_ chaining you up at the motel before leaving for the werewolf hunt tomorrow.”

He couldn’t help but grin at that because it was obvious from Dean’s tone that he didn’t _want_ to ‘chain’ him up. “Okay.”

Dean clapped his back once, “Ready?”

He grinned- _he was good at mazes-_ “Yep!”

“Alright-y then...”

Dean walked him to what Sam assumed was the beginning of the maze and then disappeared. _Literally._ Sam couldn’t hear anything from the other man-not his footsteps, not his breathing.

_Great, so he was doing this alone. ... He could do this. Yes Sir, he could._   


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean held his silence as he watched the younger boy cautiously step forward and winced when his second step snapped the trip wire; the sharp snap of the held back branch catching him right at the knees.

“Dean!”

The instinctive cry for him broke his heart but he watched the fallen figure reach out blindly to feel in front of him and caught the thorny shrub in front of his hands in his attempt to grab something to lever himself up with.

“Ah...” the soft cry had him biting his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep himself from calling out.

“Dean?” The call came again.

“This... this is a trap, isn’t it? What-” A hitched breath as the boy got his bearings, “What are we... uh- I- I mean you hunting?”

Dean swallowed.

“I’m not mad at you, okay? But you could’ve told me I was bait...”

“You’re not bait.” The words were ripped out of him. “I... This is exactly what I told you- a ma...”

He said ‘maze’ at the same time that Sam said ‘obstacle course’.

“Well, that; I guess. You’ll gather a few scrapes unless you’re careful...”

“And I have to make it across?”

“Yes,”

The boy sounded somehow more confident after that and Dean smiled; hating himself a little when he seemed to stumble across every single trip-line. At one point, after having been smacked with a branch and fallen on a bed on pine-cones and torn his sleeve on a thorn; Sam looked nearly in tears but he continued on. Unfortunately the next step landed his already-injured-on-last-night’s-hunt foot in a rope that immediately went up and dangled him upside down. The boy proved himself resourceful, however; and managed to free himself although his descent back to terra-firma was anything but graceful. Sam stood up again after a moment and Dean was impressed by his stubbornness but winced when he got caught by the sand bag at the next minute. Something seemed to snap in Sam at that though and he rushed headlong out of the maze; ignoring all the booby traps he launched and got caught in.

Dean caught him when he emerged; bleeding from a few minor cuts along his forearm; limping and with his palms scraped raw.

“You did it,” He whispered, steadying the trembling body in his grasp.

“Thank God,” The Seer mumbled in reply; throwing his own arms around Dean and leaning up against the older man. “Thank God.”  


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam had never been happier to have someone grab him than he was at that instant when Dean caught him; his entire body a mass of pain. And then the older man told him that he’d passed his little ‘test’ and Sam could have jumped with joy if his body would have permitted him to.

“You need a bit more practice; I guess...” The hunter continued and Sam froze.

“Pr-pra-practise?”

“Yep!” Dean sounded- _sadistically_ \- cheerful at the thought, “You’re doing this again once I’m done resetting the wires.”

“What? No!”

“No?” The hunter’s voice was quiet, an unspoken warning in them.

“I- ... I can’t, please?”

He felt the gentle squeeze to his shoulder before he was guided back to the car. “I’ll need about forty-five minutes. Rest up.”

“Dean...” He _whined._

“Trust me, baby boy; you’ll thank me for this later.”

 

Dean had taken the time to treat his injuries before he left him with the same exorcism rite as before. This time though, he switched off the walkman after listening to the ritual twice; taking the time to calm himself before the hunter arrived again.

When he returned; Dean was obviously taken aback by his passivity because he appeared to hesitate.

“Resigned to your fate?” The hunter questioned lightly even though Sam could tell that the question was anything but.

“No,” He shook his head, smiling wryly, “Trying to be brave... I know hunting’s tougher, more unpredictable and dangerous... and-and you risk yourself every time... You get hurt; but you pick yourself up and go back. This maze? It’s nowhere near as perilous; so...”

“You’re far braver than me, kiddo...” Dean told him, shushing him softly when he opened his mouth to protest, “So; ready to try your luck again?”

He nodded, before scuffing his converse on the soft grass and looking up to where he imagined Dean’s face was, “I just don’t know if my body can handle it...”

He heard the older man sigh and a gentle hand brushed back the hair that had fallen over his eyes, “Sammy; what- umm... what do you think is the objective of this little exercise?”

“Endurance?”

A soft chuckle met his ears before fingers tousled his hair again, “Not quite... I want you to be able to manoeuvre that maze with as little injury as possible... You’ve already shown how sharp your hearing is; use that-”

“To hear what? My screams?”Sam questioned incredulously.

“Dude, you panicked last time; alright? This time you already know what to anticipate... So be alert for the snap of the trip-wire... or-or-or the crunch of a different terrain. If you’re alert enough you can dodge the hit even _after_ you trip the trigger, you know?”

“It’s not that easy!”

“I know.” Dean’s voice was controlled even though Sam detected a hint of amusement in it, “Dad used to make me run similar courses blindfolded.”

Sam felt his jaw drop in surprise and heard Dean’s answering chuckle.

“Trust me, you can do this; alright?”

He nodded.

“Just ... don’t panic.”  


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean watched as the boy stepped into the course breathing carefully, senses on the alert. If Sam had been an actual puppy ( _and let’s face it; the boy WAS like one in the way he bounced around)_ Dean was sure his ears would have been standing at attention; twitching at the lightest sound.  
Sam manoeuvred his way slowly forward but Dean suspected he was relying on memory to some extent – _he smiled grimly, Sammy would soon be disabused of the notion._ He had no sooner thought it than Sam stumbled over one of the changes.

Instead of freaking out like he did the first time though; Sam cursed at him and continued. Dean’s grin widened.  


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
By the time they returned to the motel that day; Sam’s bruises had bruises and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch the older man for putting him through this or hug him for caring enough to put him through this.

Sighing at the jumble his thoughts were, he flopped down on the bed; groaning when his back came into contact with the – _what felt like-_ granite mattress.

“I’ve filled the tub for you; go and have a soak. The warm water will make you feel better.” Dean told him as he emerged from the bathroom.  
Sam glanced in his direction grumpily; getting up again sounded like too much work for the moment.

“Oh c’mon, Princess; it isn’t that bad!” Dean cajoled; tugging gently at his arm till he sat up. Then the hunter helped him limp to the bathroom and then waited while Sam- _painfully-_ tried to shrug out of his over-shirt and many layers before giving a put-upon sigh and helping him slip out of them. Once that was done; the hunter mutely pushed him to sit on the closed lid of the toilet and knelt to help him with his shoes.

Sam blushed when he realized that his jeans were yet to be removed and he was – _humiliatingly-_ too sore to manage even that without help.  
“Easy,” A low, drawl with a hint of gravel reached his ears just as gentle hands unclasped his belt buckle and slid the textured leather free. Nimble fingers worked the button and zipper of his denims open before he had drawn in a second breath.

“Lift your hips, Sammy,”

He obeyed; lifting up just enough for Dean to work the coarse material over the curve of his rear and then down his legs.

“I’m not helping you with the rest,” Dean told him mutinously as though Sam had so far been forcing his help but he was grateful for the gentle teasing. He waited till the sound of footsteps disappeared behind the soft click of the bathroom door closing before ridding himself of his boxers and stepping into the warm bath drawn for him.

Sam sighed in bliss as the gentle heat of the water soothed his sore muscles and stayed till the water began to cool. It was only after that that he realized that he’d only been left with a pair of boxer briefs for clothes. Blushing furiously, he wrapped the towel firmly around his hips and stepped out.

  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean was ready by the time Sam was done with his bath, but the breath still left him in a gasp - _and not in a good way-_ when the seer emerged from the bathroom with just a towel around his hips.

Sam’s body was littered with cuts and bruises that hadn’t been there before he had had Dean’s acquaintance and the hunter felt the guilt slam into him like a physical thing at the knowledge that the boy’s unblemished skin bore the scars of Dean’s association.

“Lay down,” He mumbled gruffly, “I’ve got some liniment that’ll help with the bruises.”

The seer froze at the sound of his voice but nodded even as he continued towards their bags, “Yeah, just let me pull something on,”

Dean swallowed, but didn’t refuse.  


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
 “Dean?” Sam called once he’d pulled on some sweats and a soft tee-shirt.

“Here,” The older man answered; his voice a guiding point to anchor Sam.

Dean worked the ointment into his skin with quick efficient moves and Sam could tell that the sight of his injuries bothered the older man somehow. He idly found himself wondering how bad he must look to turn a _hunter’s_ stomach...

“How bad?” He asked lazily.

“Not too bad,” Was the immediate answer, “You’ll do better tomorrow.”

He lifted his head on his elbow and turned to face the voice at that, “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah; we can squeeze in a couple of practice sessions before the hunt.”

“Oh,”

“Don’t quite trust me anymore, do you?” Dean asked lowly and Sam could hear the self-recrimination in his voice.

“Of course I do!” He protested.

“You do? _Despite_ today?” He heard the surprise in the voice.

And Sam realized that his hunter was all too easily hurt even if might choose to pretend otherwise... that Dean was someone who was hard on himself and didn’t forget or forgive easily; especially himself.

“Yeah, of course. I- I mean, you took the time to train me; even though you didn’t have to.”

“I did.” The hunter refuted, and Sam could hear him relax in the light teasing that followed. “Can’t leave you defenceless with a werewolf loose, can I?”  


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
For the second time since he had made acquaintance of Sam, Dean awoke to the sound of a low thrumming which made every object in their room vibrate.

“Sam? Sammy?”

“Hmmph?” Was the sleepy mumble; but the vibrations stopped.

“Room’s vibrating again,” Dean told him.

“S’rry,”  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam was sleep-deprived and irritable in the morning; but surprisingly, not as sore as he had feared- _apparently Dean’s liniment was a miracle healer._

Dean drove him back to the clearing they had trained in the previous day after breakfast and Sam waited for him to reset the traps without protest. The hunter had once again given him the cassette with the exorcism on loop to listen to and Sam found himself mouthing along with the words, testing his memory.

The door creaked open sooner than he had anticipated, “Ready?”

He nodded.

“We’ll try something new today,”

Sam raised a curious brow at that, “Yeah?”

“Um-hmm,” The hunter answered, helping him from the car and leading him towards the maze, “You’ve proven yourself fairly good at observation-”

Sam snorted in disbelief, “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” Dean insisted, “By the time we were done yesterday, you could avoid most of the hits...”

Sam was silent, waiting for him to continue.

“Today, we’ll see how good we are at team-work; okay? I’ll call out instructions and you follow ‘em, alright? You’ll still have to use your senses, but hopefully; my directions will give you an added advantage.”

“Okay,”

“Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Sam grinned.  


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean watched Sam step into the course and refocused his attention to where the boy was heading; intermittently calling out directions and working on making them as clear and as brief as he could. More often than not; Sam seemed to understand _exactly_ what Dean intended him to do.

This time, Sam emerged unscathed.  


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
( _EVENING_ )

He stood in the clearing they (or rather, _Dean)_ had tracked the werewolf to; his back pressed against the scratchy bark of some tree to ensure that the wolf didn’t attack from behind. All around him, he could hear the sounds of a struggle as hunter and prey fought; he wondered who was winning...

“Sammy, shoot!”

Dean’s command cut through all the noise and Sam shakily flipped off the safety on the gun he’d been given and raised it; ears straining to differentiate between the wolf and Dean.

“ _Now!_ ” Dean called out again and Sam swung the gun towards the hunter’s voice as he’d been told to.

  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean grappled futilely against the three hundred pound beast; trying to stay out of reach of the wickedly sharp claws and teeth and knowing he was no match for the behemoth. In a last-ditch attempt to subdue the werewolf, he swung his legs up to wrap them around the creature’s middle and grabbed it’s slobbering muzzle between his hands as he called out to Sam to shoot.

He knew it was risky; asking someone who couldn’t see to shoot, especially given how he himself was in the target zone; but he couldn’t afford to risk losing the werewolf.

He struggled to hold the massive creature as still as possible to give Sam a chance to hit his target and watched the gun come up blindly. For one heart-stopping second, it was aimed perfectly at him; then Sam’s eyes flared blue and a shot rang out.

Dean yelped as three-hundred pounds collapsed on him abruptly.

 “Dean?”

He pushed the corpse off and stood, “Yeah... yeah, I’m fine...”

He glanced back at the werewolf and whistled when he saw the neat hole in its head, “Got a good shot there, Sammy.”

The seer blushed, “You were wrapped around it... I was terrified I would hit you instead.”

The hunter’s eyes narrowed at that, “How’d you know?”

“ _I saw.”_

“You mean like...like in a vision, right?”

He bit his lip when the boy shook his head; his hand instinctively reaching for the mother-of-pearl handled Glock tucked in his waistband before reminding himself that so far Sam had done nothing threatening. He approached carefully, watching the seer tilt his head to hear his footsteps the way he always had- it didn’t _seem_ like the boy could _see_...

It was only once he was within touching distance that he noticed the blood seeping down the boy’s nose in a steady trickle.

“You’re bleeding!”  


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam bit back a smile as he heard the concern in his hunter’s voice, “It’s okay...”

Something soft dabbed gently under his nose, “How can this be okay, Sammy?”

He leaned into the soothing touch instinctively; feeling the hammering in his head go down to a dull throb at that familiar contact. He gratefully allowed his hunter to support some of his weight as they walked towards the impala. He sank into the leather seat, inhaling the scents of leather and gun-oil and Dean’s citrus-y cologne and closed his eyes in relief.

He jumped when a warm palm squeezed his shoulder gently, unaware of when he had fallen asleep.

“We’re here, c’mon; Kiddo.”

He allowed the hunter to guide him to their room, took a warm shower when nudged; emerging to collapse in the well-worn couch and extended his hands in a ‘gimme-gimme’ motion when the scent of cheese and pizza teased his nostrils.

Dean laughed, but obliged. It was only when they were done with their meals that the hunter brought up the hunt again.

“Tell me, Sam...”

He swallowed, knowing what was being asked even if Dean had left it unspoken, “I-... I can see when I use my powers,”

“And... and the nosebleed?”

“Same.”

“And the headache too, right?”

He nodded; blinking when careful hands brushed back the bangs that had fallen over his forehead.

“How bad is it?”

He offered a wry smile, “I’ll live.”

“Smartass,” A teasing fillip to his nose. “Why don’t you use your _sight_ all the time if it allows you to see, Sammy?”

“Too painful,”

“Oh,”

He offered a tiny smile to his hunter, “Not your fault.”  


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
It took five more days of being awakened in the middle of the night and seeing the rings around Sam’s eyes getting progressively darker for Dean to begin worrying about the boy’s health. It was obvious that the kid was prone to some kind of night terrors and that his nightmares- _even though silent-_ resulted in everything else in their room shaking. It stopped every time Dean woke him and then didn’t recur; given that he found Sam awake before him every morning, he was beginning to question if the boy  ever got back to sleep after Dean woke him.

He was wondering how to bring it up with Sam and was considering a possible solution when Sam drifted off in the Impala, body gradually going lax as he leaned into Dean. Knowing the boy needed to sleep, he didn’t comment, reducing the volume of his music and continuing to drive till he could barely keep his own eyes open and was forced to find them a motel for the night.

 Sam had another ‘nightmare’ that night.

 

They got a late start the next morning, which was why Dean was surprised when Sam fell asleep in his Baby again. In fact; he had not even realized that the boy had fallen asleep till he felt his Baby’s wheels lose traction and the car begin to coast into the on-coming lane (not that there was any traffic to worry about); but no matter how hard he gripped  the steering; the heavy muscle car continued to drift. It was only then that he realized what was happening: Sam had fallen asleep, but this time the boy had his head pillowed on the cool glass of the passenger window.  
He smacked the boy’s arm lightly to rouse him and began some inane conversation as an excuse for waking him.

A plan began to take shape in the back of his mind.  


[ **Next** ](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/34712.html)


	5. Amaurosis: Chapter-3

** Chapter-3 **

  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
He felt irritable and tired when Dean finally pulled up next to a motel; the hunter had been making- _or trying to, at any rate;_ conversation about the mundane, and even though a few of his observations were so far off the reservation that it made him laugh; for the most part; Sam just wanted him to shut up so that he could sleep. When Dean returned with a key for their room; Sam sensed a strange sort of hesitance underneath his exuberance. The reason became obvious once he was in the room.

He turned askance towards the hunter when he discovered the giant _single_ king size bed, “Dean?”

“This was the only room available,” the older man answered, “And since you fit so perfectly against me; I assumed it wouldn’t be a problem...”

“It isn’t,” he answered quickly, lips twitching at the teasing reminder of his own words.

“Good,” Dean returned; _Sam could hear the smile in the hunter’s voice,_ “Then I guess we don’t have to look for a different place...”

 

Tension diffused, the easy camaraderie remained till they retired that night, but Sam felt a strange sort of unease as he crawled in under the covers. He could feel the warmth of Dean’s body nearby but the hunter was far enough away that Sam was confident he wouldn’t encroach on the older man’s space in his sleep.

Apparently Dean did not harbour similar qualms because a minute later Sam felt a gentle tugging in his forearm, “C’mere,”

He resisted the tempting invite for less than sixty full seconds, shifting awkwardly sideways till his entire right side was pressed firmly against Dean’s left. “Okay?” He checked.

“Mmm,” was the eloquent reply as a heavy arm was flung over his waist, anchoring him.

He fought against his exhaustion valiantly- not wanting his nightmare-induced-flailing to disturb his hunter’s sleep but eventually the siren call of the Sandman proved to be too strong for him to resist. It was daylight (though early, he guessed) when he woke to Dean carefully sliding out from beneath his splayed limbs.

“Sshhh... go back to sleep,” the hunter murmured even as Sam struggled to sit up.

“Where’re you goin’?” he croaked rubbing at his sightless eyes blearily.

“Nowhere,” Dean whispered back, “Need to take a leak. I’ll come back to bed.”

“Hmmm...” was Sam’s rather articulate response as he slid back under the covers again. Nevertheless, he stayed awake, listening to the muffled sound of a stream hitting the water followed by a muted creak as the lever was pulled and then the loud gurgle of the flush. _Silence_.  
Then, the basin’s tap being turned on as Dean washed his hands; followed by the snap of the bolt being yanked and the muted scrape of the bathroom door opening and closing. Silence, again. A soft rustle of cloth and a flash of cold as the covers were lifted and the gentle groan of the old bed as a second body joined Sam’s.

The hand returned to his waist and Sam willingly curled into the hold, shivering lightly at the unexpected coolness of Dean’s rapidly warming skin.  
The second time he woke, Sam knew he was being watched. He turned till he was facing Dean and rubbed his nose against the soft cotton of the hunter’s tee-shirt, smacking his lips as he woke fully. The hand he had flung over the older man when he turned told him that Dean was propped in a half sitting position with pillows supporting his head and upper back and some sort of book resting on his bent knees. The hunter’s right hand balanced the book and turned pages while his left periodically brushed through Sam’s tangled hair.

“Morning,”

“Oh, uh... hey; good morning to you too, Princess!”  - _Obviously the hunter had not realized he was awake_ \- “Slept well?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “Better than I have in ages, if I’m honest.”

“Good,”

Sam raised an eyebrow at that and heard Dean sigh.

“Alright, guess I owe you an apology...”

“What for?” he shot back, snuggling closer to Dean’s warmth; not prepared to leave the cocoon of blankets yet.

“I-... I lied to you.”

Sam stiffened slightly but held his tongue, waiting for Dean to continue.

“This wasn’t the only available room here... I- I just wanted to check out a hunch-”

“ _Hunch?!_ What about?”

“You,” Dean’s voice sounded sheepish, “I kind of... uhm... I noticed that you suffer from nightmares? But-but that you didn’t have them on the two times you fell asleep with me touching you in some way... so I wanted to see if... if I- if you slept better with me sharing your bed.”

Sam relaxed slightly, “Guess your hunch was right.”

“Yeah. Yeah... it was; so uhm... if it’s okay with you, we could share a bed from now on? No funny business, I promise.”

“You’d do that? For- For me?” It was hard to believe someone cared so much for him.

“Of course; can’t have my Seer sleep deprived now; can I?” Dean returned, squeezing his shoulder lightly.

Sam nodded, “Th-thanks.”  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
 “Hey,” A knee bumped against his.

Dean turned back to glance at his Seer from where he’d been following the attractive swaying hips of their blonde server.

“I don’t need to be babysat every minute of every day, Dean. You can- ” Sam jerked his head in the direction the waitress had gone.

“-tap that?” Dean enquired just to see the younger male blush.

Sam ducked his head, cheeks painted a vivid crimson, “Yeah, _that.”_

“Huh,” Dean hummed in consideration, leaning to rest his back against the thin padding of the diner-chair’s backrest. “What makes you think she would encourage that sort of behaviour?”

“Dean,” Sam answered with the exaggerated patience of a teacher explaining something to a particularly slow child, “I’m blind, not deaf. And she’s been flirting with you since the moment we set foot in this establishment. And the fact that she needlessly announced that she had a break coming up in ten minutes when she planned to step out for a smoke in the alley next to us?- well, if that ain’t an invitation, I don’t know what is.”

Dean chuckled at the observation; part of him willing, but where he had jumped into these casual dalliances without thought before; some tiny part of him felt surprisingly reluctant. Flirting was second nature to him- came as easy as breathing; but somehow, for the first time he didn’t feel it right to just ‘ _abandon’_ Sam for short ruffled skirts which showed alarming amount of leg and a wink promising more. Shaking his head at the direction his thoughts had taken he gulped down the rest of his coffee in lieu of swallowing down his reservations. “You’re sure you’ll be alright?”

The Seer chuckled, “Dude; I’m not a kid; okay?  _Go.”_

“’kay, then,” Dean stood up, squeezing his shoulder once as he walked past, “Sit tight, alright? I’ll be right back.”  


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam smiled to himself as he took a bite of his hash browns and sipped at his coffee; thinking of Dean’s flustered response to their waitress’ flirting.  It was not like it was the first time this had happened, and given what he knew of Dean’s looks, it was not surprising he was hit on as often as he was. And usually Dean responded in kind; his natural cocky charm as potent an aphrodisiac to the majority of the women they encountered as his appearance.

A handful of times the words had come from a male and the hunter had reacted to them the same way as he did to the women flirting with him; easily and layered with charm although he had not taken them up on their offer since Sam had joined him. It had made Sam wonder if his hunter really was heterosexual or simply steering away from complications as some sort of obtuse effort to not offend Sam. _It would be like Dean to try something like that_ , he thought morosely, smile dimming a little.

The hunter cared for him, he knew, even if he showed his affection in weird ways. Take last night for example: Dean had taken refuge in a harmless white lie in his efforts to ensure Sam got a decent night’s sleep.

He wondered if Dean’s reluctance to have a fling with the waitress was all in his head though given the minimal coaxing he had required to leave Sam to his own devices for a bit. It was sweet of the hunter to want to stay back so Sam wouldn’t be alone; and he wondered if this was what having a real family was like: making little sacrifices for each other. The thought brought a tiny smile to his lips as he took another sip of his coffee, freezing when the gentle jingle bell at the door as some customer entered was nearly drowned by their loud _rough_ voices. He didn’t know why but he instinctively didn’t like the newcomers with their heavy treads and coarse voices.

The reason for his unease became clear less than a minute later when a callused hand gripped the back of his neck tightly, the fingers entangling in the short strands to yank his head back cruelly, “What’s a freak like you doing unsupervised, huh?”

_Hunters; the newcomers were hunters!_

Sam whimpered at the unexpected pain, sightless eyes rolling wildly as he tried to put the training Dean had put him through into use and figure out how best to handle the situation. Unfortunately, his silence seemed to rub the man wrong.

“Hey!” He barked, spittle flying to land on Sam’s face as he leaned down to loom over the seated Seer, “I’m talking to you, Freak!”

Sam closed his eyes and turned his head as much as could from the overwhelming stench of alcohol from the unknown hunter’s breath, “Not alone.”

“Up!” A different voice commanded as the hand holding his head immobile loosened.

Sam struggled as he was unceremoniously hauled to his feet by a hand in his hair and tossed on the table, wincing when he felt the remains of the congealed gravy on Dean’s plate and the wetness from the overturned tumbler of water seeped through his shirt. He punched whatever he could reach in his attempt to get free- desperately wishing Dean was there to help him; relishing the pained ‘oomph’ when his fist connected with something soft. His hands were grabbed a moment later though; and twisted till his breath hitched from the agony of it- refusing to grant them the satisfaction of his whimpers.

Everything went silent for a few blissful seconds and then someone was yanking at his pants.

He would have protested if the shock of this new humiliation had it not robbed him of his voice: Dean had always treated him with respect and he had somehow forgotten how hunters treated people like him. He had bitten his lips to remain silent while being manhandled, but now; as he felt the cold air against his bared thighs and over the thin cotton of his boxers; Sam could not keep from whimpering, “ _Dean!”_

He closed his eyes as he remembered that while the diner had not been particularly crowded when he and Dean had walked in; there had been enough noise to tell him that it was reasonably full. And now everybody would be getting a free show. “Dean...” He mumbled wearily, lashes clumping from the wetness that had leaked down his cheeks.

Fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers and Sam steeled himself for the ultimate humiliation.

“ ** _Hey!_** _” A familiar voice thundered. And Sam had never been more relieved in his life._  


  
**[Next](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/34970.html) **   



	6. Amaurosis: Chapter-4

**_ Chapter-4 _ **

  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**

Dean was feeling fairly loose limbed as he made his way back to the diner; _damn, the things that girl could do with her tongue!_

His guilt at leaving Sammy alone a thing of the past, he glanced at the parking lot to see whether Baby was okay out of habit and noticed one dusty truck and a jeep in not much better condition had pulled up that had not been there when he first stepped out.

_Dean!_

His brow furrowed as he glanced up automatically but found no one, a tendril of unease curling low in his gut. Hastening his steps slightly he made his way to the side-entrance to the diner; and reached for the gun tucked in his jeans instinctively when he found the diner silent save the loud voices of two men who were bent over a prone form.

“ _Hey!_ ”

The men glanced up at his voice, moving for their own weapons as they did and he identified the bent over form as that of his Seer. All it took was that glance for his trained eyes to note that his boy’s jeans had been pushed to his knees and the man holding him down was about to mete out a similar treatment to his boxer-briefs.

“No need to get your panties in a twist, Pretty boy; we’re just trying to find out who owns this freak-”

_Hunters, then._

Dean grimaced internally, but kept his expression neutral, “I do. Who wants to know?”

He watched the men exchange glances before loosening their hold on Sam, “You’re a hunter?”

Dean jerked his head in a curt nod; flicking on the safety of his gun as he approached, “Dean Winchester. I’m  guessing you guys are in the business as well?”

The man holding Sammy yanked the elastic of Sam’s briefs enough to check the name on the brand before releasing the seer. Sam straightened immediately, cheeks aflame as he tugged his jeans back up again; his head stayed lowered with his bangs hiding his eyes as he made his way to where he’d last heard Dean speak from. Dean reached out a hand to grab the boy and correct his course, biting back a smile at how Sam seemed to curl into him despite his larger size.

“I’m Roy; that’s Walt,” the one who had been holding Sam down introduced; extending a hand and revealing tobacco stained teeth.

Dean nodded absently, more preoccupied with dabbing at the gravy and sauce marring Sam’s over-shirt, “Damn; you’re a mess, Kiddo-”

“Sir-” A voice interrupted shakily and Dean turned to glance at the balding manager, “I’m sorry b-b-but I must a-aa-ask you a-all to leave. T-th-his is a fa-aa-mm-mily j-joint a-and you’re sca-aa-ring m-my other customers.”

“Pussy,” either Walt or Roy grumbled; turning to spit on the floor at their feet, Dean didn’t bother noting which of the two men it was.

Dean winced at the obvious lack of manners and reached for his wallet. “I understand; if you could just tell me my tab?”

The poor civilian shook his head, trembling visibly as he looked at the three muscled hunters and the blind but still looming Seer, “N-n-no charge, j-ju-just please... go?”

Dean bit his lip at the obvious terror and tossed a handful of bills to the table despite the manager’s protests, “Think of it as reparations, ‘kay? Sorry for the trouble.”  


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam allowed Dean to guide him out with a proprietary hand on the small of his back, still trembling from his ordeal. He could hear the heavy tread of the other two hunters just ahead of them.

“Hey, Winchester!”

Dean paused and Sam wanted to scream but passively followed his hunter when Dean led him away from the Impala towards where the call had come from. He could scent dirt and the rancid stench of sweat and blood as he neared their vehicle.

He slowed his steps and Dean’s hand brushed up his back to come to rest at his right shoulder which the hunter squeezed lightly in reassurance, “It’ll be okay,”

He swallowed and forced a nod that he didn’t quite believe in.  


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean could sense the unease in the rigid body beside him but forced himself to keep his game face on and walk up to the dusty truck which had been some shade of red originally, he guessed, but now was little more than a health hazard given the rust and jagged edges that he could make out under the thick coat of dried mud.

He nearly threw up his meal when he noticed the spread eagled body prone on the bed of the truck; glad that Sammy couldn’t see and was spared this sight. He silently took in the thick steel rings that had been bolted to the four corners of the carriage and the short chains binding each limb of the prone individual to the nearest islet. The shortness of the chain meant the figure couldn’t rise on all fours, never mind sitting and judging from the redness of the shaven head, had been forced to travel in its current condition.

Times like these, Dean found himself questioning who the real monsters were.

“You on any specific hunt?” the coarse voice interrupted his silent musings.

He shook his head, swallowing discreetly to moisten his parched throat, “Looking for one, why?”

“Cause we’ve got one you could join, if ya wish ta.”

Dean shrugged, considering, “What’re you hunting?”

“Wendigo,” the silent one – _Roy, if Dean remembered right_ ; answered then spat on the ground.

“A whole pack of them,” Walt added gleefully.

“Wendigoes don’t hunt in packs,” Dean countered.

“That’s what we thought too, but apparently these do,” Walt shrugged. “So what d’ya say; you want in?”

Dean didn’t exactly like these men enough to want to join them, but the hunt sounded interesting, “Yeah, okay... just, out of curiosity, why’d you want me to join you guys?”

“Well,” Walt laughed, “These bastards are vicious and fast; and everything here-” _He tossed a thick file full of newspaper clippings and scribbled notes to Dean,_ “indicates that they’ve gotten smart as well. And we’ve heard good things ‘bout you; kid. Thought it wouldn’t hurt to have some additional back-up.”

Dean looked down at the clipping, “Black ridge, Colorado?”

“Too far, Pretty boy?” Roy sneered.

Dean snapped the folder shut with a snap, “No, we’ll meet you there; then.”

And walked away without looking back.  


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam kept his silence all the way to the motel; but when the hunter reached for him to help him with his soiled clothes, he balked, “Don’t _touch_ me!”

Dean sounded puzzled, “Sammy?”

“Just don’t; okay?”

“Not touching you,” And Sam heard the soft rustle of movement as though the hunter had moved to reveal his hands, “Okay?”

Sam jerked his head in a nod; the breath leaving him in a shuddering gasp.

“What’s- what’s wrong, Kiddo?”

He shook his head, determined to keep his wet eyes a secret.

“Sammy, c’mon Kiddo, tell me?”

He swallowed, resolutely keeping his back to the hunter; “Ne-nothing,”

“Sam.” This time it was an order, albeit a gently spoken one.

“I’m sorry,” Sam shrugged, “I- I guess I should thank you,”

“For _what?!”_

“Reminding me that we were not actually friends ... that- that you are my master.”

A gasp is his only response.

“So thank you,” he continued, “for- for reminding me of that fact before I forgot and-and we crossed some line that we shouldn’t. Thank you for reminding me that I don’t factor into your decisions,”

“You’re right,” Dean finally spoke up, “I wasn’t thinking of you when I made that decision,”

Sam couldn’t quite stop the wounded little sob from slipping out at the confession.

“I was thinking of the victims; of the families that have lost their loved ones and the ones who still might unless we stop those wendigoes.”

Sam’s head snapped up at that, turning towards the voice instinctively even as shame swamped him for having been so selfish.

“But you’re right, what they did to you was wrong; and maybe I should have consulted you before giving them my answer...” – _a pause where he imagined Dean shrugging-_ “what’s done is done. I could leave you with one of my contacts- Bobby, he’s a retired hunter, doesn’t really go out himself unless there’s no other option. I’ll collect you once I’m done with this hunt.”

Sam shook his head slowly, “No, please...?”

“You’re right, Sam; I shouldn’t be involving you in this hunt. For one, the terrain is going to be hell on you- all of us really, but I suppose it’ll be worse if you can’t even _see_ the roots and shrubs all over the place that could possibly trip you. And,” - _An audible exhale-_ “Well, secondly, I don’t want you anywhere near those creeps.”  


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean took the boy’s silence as acquiescence and walked up to him to carefully remove the soiled clothes, wincing when he noticed the beginnings of a bruise forming on that smooth jaw where Walt had held him. Sam whimpered softly while Dean was helping him shrug the shirt off his right shoulder and the soft bitten off cry had him checking the arm in alarm. He winced at its red, swollen look and gentled his hands further while helping the seer with his tee-shirt, “How did you hurt your arm?”

An unexpected smile lit the boy’s features, “Punched ‘im,”

Dean bit his lip to smother his laugh as he pictured his gentle Seer actually punching someone, but then he remembered _why_ the boy had felt the need to and his smile disappeared. “’m sorry I wasn’t there,”

“Not your fault,” Sam murmured as he accepted the change of clothes Dean handed him and disappeared into the shower.

Dean sighed, running a tired hand through his hair as he played back their argument- _guess Sammy was beginning to figure out how undeserving of his trust Dean was. ... Well, it was bound to happen sometime._  


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam emerged from his shower and was gratified to find Dean already waiting for him with the liniment to soothe his throbbing shoulder.  
The man confused him no end; treating him like he actually cared, but then agreeing to hunt with those damn hunters. Yes, Dean had saved him from them, but still...

The hunter was mostly silent as he worked, first to smooth in the balm and then to wrap a crepe-bandage lightly over it. He jumped lightly at an unexpected knock on the door but relaxed again when Dean murmured that it was just the pizza he had ordered to be delivered.

Dean found a radio station on his mobile and they sat on the lumpy couch, sharing a meat-lover’s special as the radio played softly on in the background. Sam couldn’t help but wonder if the hunter would prefer to watch something on the television, after all, it wasn’t like _he_ was blind, wasn’t it?

The hunter cleared away the take-out boxes they had eaten on and removed the empty beer cans from the floor so that Sam didn’t trip on them. Then when Sam emerged from the bathroom, shuffling awkwardly – _reluctantly-_ towards ‘his’ bed; Dean cleared his throat.

“C’mon Sammy, don’t do this... please?” he said softly, “I _know_ you’re mad at me at the moment, alright; but you still need your sleep. So come here.”

He obediently changed his course and settled against the older man’s side, smiling to himself, when Dean automatically curled around him in a practised move. A callused hand gently brushed though his hair, “You’re right to want to sit this one out,” Dean murmured.

Sam stilled, waiting for him to continue.

 “Don’t like the way they treat their Seers. Don’t think it’ll be safe for you.”

“They had a Seer with them?”

“Um-hmm,” Dean hummed, arm tightening lightly, “Had the poor thing chained up in the back of their truck,”

Sam’s breath froze in his lungs as he pictured Dean caring for the unknown Seer. And he felt the first faint trace of ice settle in his heart. _What if Dean liked this other Seer better?_

“I want to come along, please.”

“What? No!”

“I’m sorry, okay? Don’t send me back!”

“Send you back, where?”

“To PACMan,” Sam whispered softly.

“You’re mine, alright?” Dean’s hold tightened before relaxing again, “I’m never sending you back.”  


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean winced as he realized that Sam was terrified of being sent to PACMan to the point of offering to join him on the hunt with Walt and Roy. He rubbed soothingly along his spine, “-but this hunt... it won’t be pleasant, Sammy; just sit this one out.”

“No, please.”

He had to smile at the stubborn refusal. “I’ll come collect you the second were done-”

“No.”

His smile faded at the mule-headedness displayed despite his reassurances, “Give me one reason why you want to go with me,”

“I could help you detect the wendigoes,”

“No,” Dean sighed, “That’s a reason for why _I_ want you along; what I want is the reason _you_ want to join me.  And don’t tell me that it’s because you don’t know Bobby; you’re going to love him. He’s a geek like you.”

He watched the Seer’s lips curl up at the corners as he smothered a smile at Dean’s description of the older hunter. “Well?” he prompted after a minute.

“I have one,” Sam confessed after a long minute, “but you’re gonna laugh.”

“I won’t,” Dean promised. “Tell me,”

“When-when I’m with you,” Sam began softly, “when I’m with you...”

“Go on,” Dean prompted, tightening his hold a little to show wordless support as he waited for Sam to continue.

“For the first time in my life, I feel like I understand what it feels like to have a family,”

Dean felt his heart- _what was left of it, anyway;_ shatter, “B-but you were with the Resistance; surely that has to mean you-”

Sam shook his head quickly, “Not my-...not my real family.”

“I don’t think I understand,” Dean whispered, hoping that he was wrong about where he suspected this conversation was leading.

“My biological family didn’t want me.”

The words were said without inflection but Dean winced regardless.

“And- and the family that took me in,” Sam continued in that same monotone, “They weren’t happy when they realized I was a Seer... accused my Dad of being a fraud and duping them. They-  they were kind in that they didn’t cart me off to PACMan; but it was made abundantly clear that I was to leave the moment I turned legal. I-I managed to contact the oppugnancy- Do you know they call themselves the _Machibuse_ after Pac man’s enemy from the game?”  He paused, clearing his throat before beginning a-new, “Anyway, I left to join them when I was seventeen.”

“Did you like it, with them?”

“Not really; it was a different world for me. My adoptive family might not have loved me, but I’d still led a sheltered life.” - A shrug, “They taught us to fight and ways to go undetected. And to never ever trust a Hunter.”

Dean let out a dry chuckle at that, “Good rules,”

“I don’t think so,” Sam refuted quietly.

“No?”

“They made it sound like all hunters were- _are-_ monsters. They’re wrong,”

“Are they?” Dean wondered.

“I’ve never felt safer with anyone else in my life, Dean...  or better cared for.”  


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam relaxed as he felt the hunter go silent, knowing he had revealed more about himself to this man he had known for barely a few weeks than he had to his ‘friends’ back at the _  
  
Machibuse safe house.  
  
_ He had known them for years, and yeah, they had all grown incredibly close given the circumstances, but with none of them had he had this connection; this instinctive familiarity.

Even that very first night, he’d somehow _known_ that he was safe with this man; this hunter. He had been _registered_ and _branded_ that day, and had heard the ‘ _hunters are cruel_ ’ speech everyday for four years straight at that point; and yet he had dared to _test_ Dean, to tease him even; instinctively knowing that he wouldn’t be punished for it.

“Hey.” The low sleepy drawl drew him from his musings, a smile teasing his lips as Dean’s callused hands rubbed his forearms as though to warm the skin, “Would you prefer if I took the other bed tonight?”

His own hand moved to grab the hunter’s to keep him from withdrawing, “No,”

“Then sleep, we’ve a long day ahead of us tomorrow,”

“You-... you’re taking me with you, right?” he asked, wondering if his words had convinced the hunter or not.

“Yes,” He could hear the laughter in Dean’s voice, “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”  


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Sometimes he found it hard to believe that he actually slept better with the Seer in his bed; certainly deeper even if he wasn’t sure if that was an advantage or disadvantage yet: hunters couldn’t afford to be deep sleepers. He couldn’t remember when he had last slept this peacefully; it had to be before his brother-

Dean cut off the thought ruthlessly; he didn’t want to think of his baby brother now. So what if not a day went by that he didn’t remember that joyful laughter, that gap-toothed dimpled smile? ... But that was not true either, was it? He had begun to forget Sammy. Ever since he’d gotten Sam, that Sammy-shaped hole in his heart seemed to hurt less. He shook his head at the sappiness of his thoughts, and slipped out of bed; pushing his pillow and curving it against Sam’s back to make up for the empty spot he was leaving behind.

“Dean...?”

He hung his head. _Why did this seer have to be so ridiculously sensitive to him???_

“Sshhh... just going on a breakfast run, kiddo. Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you when I get back.”

Sammy smacked his lips sleepily and mumbled something unintelligible which Dean took to mean assent. He brushed his fingers through the brunette strands once before grabbing his jacket and heading out.

_Coffee. They needed lots of coffee._   


[ **Next** ](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/36081.html)


	7. Amaurosis: Chapter-4b

(Part 4b)

  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam leaned back against the seat and rested his head against the window as they made the long drive to Black-Ridge, Colorado. Dean had filled him in on the details of the hunt at breakfast and explained to him just _what_ a Wendigo was. And while he wasn’t all that keen on joining Roy and Walt on this hunt; he couldn’t deny that these creatures needed to be put down.

He didn’t know what made him sit up suddenly, demanding Dean to ‘ _Pull over’_ .

“Sammy?” He heard the unspecific concern in the hunter’s voice, felt the change in terrain as the Impala coasted to a slow stop along the side of the road; but all he could focus on was the soup of terror and confusion roiling inside him.

“You gonna throw up, Kiddo?” Dean’s palm was warm against his nape as his thumb brushed the spot lightly, soothing him like a spooked animal.

He shook his head slowly.

“Alright then; can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I-I don’t know,” he confessed miserably, leaning into the warm hand that had slipped from his nape to his shoulder.

“O-kay,” Dean said slowly and Sam could feel the wheels turning in the hunters mind as he tried to figure it out. “Why don’t you tell me what’s gotten you so panicked...? Can you do that for me, Sammy?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know; I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no... It’s fine Kiddo,” the hunter reassured, his other hand coming up to hold the hand curled on his lap and squeeze gently. “Why don’t you try describing what exactly you are feeling... think you can manage that?”

“Confused,” Sam admitted in a whisper, “I- I don’t know what’s wrong...”

“Its fine, its fine... you’re doing great. “ Dean comforted, “So you’re confused... because... you don’t know why you asked me to stop?”

He shrugged, repeating, “I don’t know what’s wrong...”

“What else are you feeling?”

“Terrified?”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know...”

“Huh,” Dean’s response surprised him.

“What?”

“Sammy, why don’t you try using your powers for a minute... Maybe that’ll help you figure this out...?”

He wondered why he hadn’t thought of it himself, after all before meeting Dean that had been his usual reaction to any sort of threat or confusion.   
Sam couldn’t remember when he had stopped trying to figure everything out by himself... when he’d started relying on Dean to help him out instead. Obediently closing his eyes he loosened the control on that part of himself, his mind immediately filling with images of terror as something flickering attacked him. Breathing raggedly, he pulled back from the situation, allowing himself a chance to take in the surroundings and not focus on the threat.

“Well?” Dean’s voice cut through the turbulent images, drawing him back to the real world like a lighthouse guiding a lost ship.

“It’s a spirit.”

“Where?”

“In town,” He shrugged, “A big house, tree in the front yard. Two kids. Mother.”

Dean nodded, “Anything else?”

“It’s angry... wants them gone.”

“Good. You did well; Sammy.”

He blushed at the praise; he’d usually been reprimanded for using his powers, blamed for giving away their location. Obviously, that hadn’t been true since he’d joined Dean, the hunter usually complimenting his powers; but still, it felt good to hear the praise. Better still was realising that he didn’t have a headache like he usually did after using his powers.   


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean curled his arm around Sam’s shoulder as he drove one-handed, taking the exit that lead in to the town. Watching the near-panic attack had felt horrible; but he had found new-found respect for the boy as he watched the thin skin of his eyelids flare blue as the boy obeyed and used his powers to try and figure out what had set him off.

Now, watching the tiny smile flicker on his Seer’s lips, Dean couldn’t help but mimic the expression. “What’s got you smiling?”

“No headache,” The boy beamed and Dean winced at the reminder that the poor kid suffered every time he used his powers. At least this time there was no nosebleed... and no headache either if he was to be believed.

But the anomaly had him frowning in thought, “Hey Sammy?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you don’t have a headache or nosebleed; but why do you think this time was different?”

Pink suffused the boy’s skin, making him curious.

“Sammy?”

“Same reason as for my nightmares.”

“Meaning contact? You need physical contact with someone?”

“Not... not someone,” The boy mumbled, “You.”

Dean stiffened at that, unsure how to respond. Eventually he managed to ask, “How do you know that; it’s possible you just need someone-  _anyone-_ to hold you while you use your powers...”

“Andy sometimes held me when the visions came; back... back at the  _ Machibuse _ centre, it never helped.”

“Andy... he was another Seer?”

“Umhmm,”

“Maybe it has to be someone without powers...”

He watched the boy shake his head in refusal, “No, had one of the handlers grab me once too... Didn’t help.”   


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Not for the first time, Sam found himself wishing that he could see: destroying the spirit had been laughably easy once they figured out which house was being haunted, but even an easy hunt meant injuries. .. _Especially when it involved an overprotective idiot like Dean_ (who was- _evidently_ \- of the opinion that the only person allowed to get hurt was himself).

The hunter brushed away his concerns saying it was nothing and that he had had worse; and maybe he had even managed to school his features into a placid mask, but Sam’s acute hearing meant he had heard the hitched breath as Dean settled himself behind the wheel as they resumed their drive to Black Ridge.

“You need to rest, Dean,”

“Nah... I’m good, you can take a nap if you want, though; lean against me. I don’t mind.”

“I know,” Sam grumbled; because as much as he enjoyed snuggling into Dean’s side, he was  _twenty-one years old and much-MUCH too old to need such comfort._

“Don’t be a bitch and get some rest,” Dean returned affectionately, tugging lightly till Sam was stretched along the bench seat with his head pillowed just under Dean’s shoulder.

“Jerk,” he returned, but closed his eyes; after all he was-  _they were-_ going to need to be at full strength for the Wendigo hunt. The use of his powers always sapped his strength and though he was getting better at it, the opportunity to rest and recharge was a welcome one.

He thought of cool green forests and muddy trails as he drifted off; his dreams filled with images of trees in full blossom and grassy spaces.   


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean woke the Seer carefully, waiting till he was fully conscious before exiting the car to meet Roy and Walt where they waited next to their own dusty rust-bucket of vehicle. His eyes narrowed at the trembling slip of a girl that was their Seer; watching as the men piled their gear on her slender back.

Dean felt the warm line of heat where Sam was pressed against his side and slowed his steps. “Stay close to me,”

“Hmm,” was the hum of response; and Dean smiled at the knowledge that Sam was as much on his guard as him.

He tightened his hold on his pack as he neared the trio, “We gonna hike?”

“Yeah,” Walt answered, and Dean could feel the prickling gaze of the other hunter settle on Sam’s figure behind him.  
“You sure you’re comfortable with letting him run lose like that?”

Dean’s brow rose at the words and he took in the thick leather collar on the girl’s neck, her manacled hands and the leash dangling from them.

“Umm...yeah, Sam’s safe.”

“Great then, let’s start before it gets too dark, alright?” Roy cut in, picking the leash and tugging the girl as he set off towards the woods.

Dean followed, Sam at his heels; Walt walked between the two Hunter-Seer pairs, talking about the location where the bodies had been discovered and where he thought was the Wendigoes lair.

Dean carefully pulled Sam’s hand and wound a finger through his own belt-loops to guide the seer; knowing Sam was alert and capable of reading Dean’s movements enough to get a fair read on the terrain. It was dusk when the Seer stumbled for the first time (though the poor girl up ahead had stumbled and fallen countless times so far; her knees grazed and bleeding sluggishly after the last incident when she scraped it against a fallen branch in her effort to stop her fall.) Dean paused, realizing the uneven land was getting progressively worse as they walked deeper into the forest and his movements weren’t enough to guide Sam anymore. He whispered for Sam to wait while he scouted the dense underbrush for a long-ish stick. Finding a slender branch that mostly served the purpose, he brought it back; pulling out the blade from his hip-holster to slice away the unnecessary twigs and smoothen it somewhat. He still hesitated before handing it over; knowing the rough bark – while harmless to his callused hands, would scrape at the Seer’s softer skin. Eventually, he pulled out his handkerchief, folding and wrapping it around one end to serve as a make-shift handle. 

Sam’s beatific smile when he handed it over, though; was worth the sacrifice of his only clean handkerchief- one hand-embroidered by his mom and his only remaining gift from her.   


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam couldn’t help but grin when he felt the padded end of the makeshift walking stick Dean handed him. A part of him missed the reassurance of holding on to the hunter; knowing he would be caught the second he stumbled, but the rest of him- the independent adult that had hated the Machibuse for its rules and conformities even as he’d understood their necessity; exulted in the freedom the stick provided. He heard the soft footfalls next to his and felt the last of his doubts disappear.

Sam wasn’t sure how long they walked along the hiking-trail; but he was glad to stop when Dean stopped him with a murmured, “We’re stopping for tonight.”

He heard the sounds of Walt and Roy setting up their tents and felt useless as Dean made him steady the pike and prepared theirs. 

He couldn’t help the grin at Dean’s proud, ’ _done!’_ as the hunter stepped back and looked at their setup.

“That was fast,” he heard one of the other guys mutter and felt his muscles tense involuntarily; but Dean’s hand curled around his shoulder almost immediately, telling him to stand down wordlessly, telling him that _it was okay._

He relinquished his rucksack without hesitation when the hunter took it and tossed it inside their tent; biting his lip when he heard the other hunters request Dean to gather firewood for the campfire since he was done.

“Set up the bedroll, Sam.” 

He heard the faux hardness in the tone and understood that even though it wasn’t strictly necessary, Dean was using the excuse to push him into the tent.

He knocked his stick along the ground till he found the rolled canvas and grabbed it before heading inside the tent. Once inside, he carefully felt around till he found the buckles on the roll before undoing them. Unrolling it was easier than expected and he soon found himself bored as he sat on it, waiting for Dean to return. 

Gradually the sounds around the camp quietened as the other hunters finished with their own tents; but with the lessening of sound, Sam became aware of the low keening. Objectively, he knew it was from the female seer, but the sound set his teeth on edge and every fibre in him wanted to go out and protect the girl. There was a loud thud and then some thumping before the girl’s sobs increased in volume. Sam heard the drag and rustle of dried leaves as though something heavy was being dragged and then the clink of chains. 

The return of the quiet- barring some muffled whimpers had him aware of something poking at him from under the canvas cover and he felt around till he located the small pebble. Wondering if there were other things which could disturb their night’s rest had Sam sweeping his arm carefully under the length of the entire roll, tossing out twigs and rocks as he found them.

He jumped when the zipper was yanked open on one end of the tent, Roy’s coarse voice yelling at him to get his lazy butt out.

Having no other choice, Sam mutely followed the other hunter out; walking slow enough to stop a foot away when the man paused.

“So, what’s your power; Freak?”

Sam held his tongue, trying to ignore the ugly name: he had been called that before and while Dean had never referred to him in such derogatory terms; he knew that a lot of other hunters did.

“What, you lack a tongue?” a different voice spat and Sam automatically jerked away at the first hint of flying spittle.

Rough callused hands- _so different from Dean’s,_ he noticed abstractly _, even if the gun calluses were all in the same places-_ grabbed his jaw and pried his mouth open to check for the presence of a tongue and it took everything in him not to bite at those hateful fingers.

“Why don’t you talk, boy?” The first voice asked even as his shirt-collar was tugged till he was slightly hunched.

It’s with some surprise that he realized that the men were much shorter than him; not that the knowledge made him feel particularly powerful. Dean had told him to be on his guard and not do anything that might give them an excuse to hurt him worse; but it was _so incredibly hard..._

“Maybe we need to put that mouth to better use, Walt.”

Sam froze at the implications, sightless eyes wide and terrified as he shook his head even as he was forced to his knees.

“Open wide, _Freak_.”

Sam trembled; feeling the low hum of his power begin to coil in his gut as it prepared to protect him. He fought to rein it in, not wanting to be labelled a ‘danger’ because that _would_ be his label if he hurt hunters.   


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean sped up as he felt that instinctual curl in his gut warning him of danger. He’d always trusted his intuition and it had generally saved him from numerous scrapes; but the last time he had felt this acute of a warning, Sam was being accosted by Walt and Roy.

Not wanting to think too deeply about why the boy’s welfare was so paramount to him, he jogged back with his armload of firewood; his speed enough to be called a sprint as his internal alarms went off. He was glad to have heeded their warning when he came back to the campsite to find Sam forced to his knees between the thick denim clad legs of Roy with Walt crowding in from the side.

He tossed the wood with a loud clatter; lips curling in distaste as he realized that the fire-pit was not yet ready and the female seer was chained to a stump on the far side of the camp like a dog.

“Thought we all knew better than to touch each others’ property,” Dean drawled, shoulders tense for a fight but voice even.

Walt jerked back at his voice like he’d been scalded.

“Just wanted to talk to the Freak,”

“I’m sure.” Dean told him dryly; staring levelly at Roy till the man drew back and levered himself to his feet; leaving Sam kneeling like some sacrificial lamb.

He stalked over to the seer and wound his fingers around the brown strands, tugging lightly to signal him to get to his feet.

“He mute?”

Dean turned at the question, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips as he understood that Sam had refused to answer whatever questions they might have had. “No, but I’d forbidden him from speaking before I left.”

“Huh,” If the men detected the lie they kept quiet.

“What did you want to know, anyway?”

“His ability... I mean what _can_ he do?”

“Oh, not much actually,” Dean returned easily, “He gets these terrible visions about supernatural attacks.”

“Psychic?”

Dean shrugged, “He has no idea about how to control them or when they’ll hit. They leave him with migraines and when serious, bleeding.”

“Why’d you get him, then; if he’s so worthless?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “’coz he was all I could afford.”

He felt the seer stiffen next to him and sighed inwardly; knowing he would have some explaining to do the moment they had some privacy. Without waiting for a response, he set to building the fire-pit; directing Sam to dig and smiling grimly when the boy obeyed without protest.   


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam pawed through his bag twice before conceding defeat.

Dinner had been an awkward affair; the conversation stilted and with everybody- especially the three hunters- on guard for a wendigo attack, it was a relief when Walt announced he would take first watch and the rest of them retired to their tents.

“What?”

He jumped at the hunter’s voice, not having heard him come in while he was looking for through his bag. “Can’t find my night-pants,”   
“Uh... that might be because I took them out.”

“Oh,” Sam mumbled, feeling stupid for not having checked for that before. He patted the bedroll, fingers searching for the familiar cotton when he heard Dean clear his throat again.

“I left them at the car, Sammy,”

He stilled, waiting for the man to continue.

“We needed to lighten our packs to fit in the ammo; that’s more important for this hunt. So I uh... I left out our change of clothes except for a tee-shirt each. You can sleep in your jeans; or strip down to your boxers like me. Given we’re going to share; I’d recommend the latter.”

Sam nodded, fingers trembling lightly as he undid his belt and crouched to shuck off the worn denim.

“Did you mean it?” he couldn’t help but demand, working to distract himself from the fact that they were apparently going to be pressed up together with even less barriers between them than usual. “When you said earlier that you got me because I was in your _budget_... did you mean it?”

“I did get you because I could afford you, yes,” Dean mumbled; tugging him once he was done to zip the bag up and seal them in, “But I also could have gotten one of the ten other seers Martin had on his list. I picked you in particular for a specific reason. And-”

Sam opened his mouth to question but felt a callused trigger finger press against his lips, silencing him.

“Don’t- don’t ask me about that right now, ‘kay?”

“Later?” he mouthed more than actually asked, his lips moving soundlessly against the finger pressed to them.

“Yeah...” Dean sighed, finally retracting his hand and shifting to lie on his back with a rustle of the worn canvas, “Yeah; I’ll tell you about it later.”    


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable in the small space: _the bag really was too small for two guys as big as him and Sammy._  
It was tight and uncomfortable but given how rigid Sam was; he decided the younger male wouldn’t welcome him using Sam for a teddy bear and stayed as far away as the confines allowed- which was to say, his entire left was pressed firmly against Sam’s back as the boy lay curled on his side.

A part of him missed the by-now familiar closeness; having grown used to sharing his bed already. He would have preferred not to tell Sam about his dismal financial status. He’d used his entire inheritance to purchase the boy and register him to legalize the claim; and it was true that had Martin not agreed to lower his rates Dean would have had to settle for a different seer, but he guessed that finding out just how shallow Dean’s affections really were was bound to hit someone as affection-starved as Sam hard.

“Ugh,” Sam grumbled softly.

Dean held still; waiting to see what the boy would do.

The seer groused wordlessly as he awkwardly shifted and turned till he was on his back; Dean could feel the seams of the canvas sleeping bag stretch to accommodate them side by side (although if you wished to be technical about it, Sam was partially on top of Dean). The boy let out a huff of annoyance and then manoeuvred some more till he was on his side again; this time facing Dean.

“You can have the pillow,” he declared, pushing the inflated air-pillow under Dean’s head, who obliging lifted his head to accommodate it.

“What about you?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m good,” Sam whispered back, wriggling some more till he had slid down enough to comfortably rest his head on the hunter’s shoulder; his left arm (and leg) coming up to possessively wrap around him.

Dean allowed his body to relax under the heavy weight of Sam’s limbs; strangely reminded of his childhood when... _when._

He swallowed, willing the sudden block in his throat to go down and blinking the unbidden tears away.

“Thank you,”

Dean choked, managing a hoarse sounding “For what?”

“For picking me,”

_And just when Dean thought he couldn’t feel any worse..._

“I mean... you could have chosen one of the others; so... thank you.”

“I’m sure the others wouldn’t have seen this as a kindness.”

“Well, I do. ... I- I was suffocating with the Machibuse, Dean. I was considering trying to escape just to feel the fresh air again-”

“They were keeping you  _safe!”_

“Maybe; maybe I was existing, Dean... but I wasn’t living. Not really.” Sam’s arm twitched lightly as his fingers rubbed abstractly on the thin cotton of Dean’s tee-shirt, “We had to remain indoors all the time. Weren’t allowed to talk loudly or make noise lest we attract some hunter’s attention; or worse, PACMan’s. We didn’t have electricity; or-or-or hot water... at least not till Aidan arrived.”

“Aidan?”

“Another seer, his hands could heat up like an iron rod-”

“Just his hands?”

“Um-hmm, anyway; he used warm the water for us.”

“That’s nice,” Dean whispered, trying to picture that kind of life; his own life hadn’t been too easy, what with being a hunter and raised by one, but the loneliness in Sam’s voice still managed to hurt some part deep in him.

“It was,” Sam agreed before succumbing to a jaw-crackingly wide yawn, “G’night,”

“Good night, Sammy.” Dean returned; removing the left arm from under his head to curl his forearm around the boy snuggled next to him, his fingers idly scratching through the soft brown strands. “Go to sleep, kiddo; I’ve got you.”   


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam wasn’t sure what exactly woke him but there was a pit of unease building low in his gut that made him worry. It was similar to the strange _sense_ that assailed him whenever a supernatural was near, but muted; and given that Dean was pressed so firmly up against him, it was not surprising that he felt protected.

He shifted out from under Dean’s arm carefully and realized that the hunter was sprawled on his back with Sam still tucked up on his chest the way they had been when he’d closed his eyes. Apparently neither had moved in their sleep. Dean’s arm tightened imperceptibly as he tried to wriggle out from underneath and he hushed softly; the hunter going lax again at the reassurance.

A low sob echoed in the clearing and his head shot up; he held still for a moment wondering if Dean had woken up; but the older man didn’t stir. He crept out of the sleeping bag soundlessly to investigate and hissed at the cold outside the warm cocoon they had created. Dean grumbled incoherently in his sleep at the change as well, but didn’t awaken.

Gritting his teeth, he reached into himself and unlocked the cage on his powers, unzipping a portion of the tent’s exit and peering out. He could make out Roy and the seer on the far side of the meadow and the hunter was doing something that made the girl whimper. His breath hitched.   
He watched the hunter’s head come up at the sound till he was looking directly at him. Sam scrambled back; jumping back inside the sleeping bag forcefully enough to jostle Dean awake.

“What?”  The hunter asked, blinking blearily.

Before Sam could answer they both heard loud footsteps come to a halt outside their tent.

“Winchester?”

Dean squeezed his shoulder once and slid out, tucking his gun into the waistband of his boxers before unzipping the tent to let the other man in. “What?”

“Saw something... a glow from here. You okay?”

“Must have caught my torch; I was checking the time.”

“T’was blue and there were twin points; like-like eyes,”

Both Sam and Dean heard the suspicion in the tone and Sam wondered how Dean was going to cover this time.

“Yeah,” Dean answered; Sam heard the soft snick of a switch being turned and felt light come on, “Like I said, my torchlight.”

Whatever Dean had used must have simulated his glowing eyes because Roy hesitated, “Yeah... but-”

They never found out what the other hunter was going to say because it was then that they all heard the snap of a twig and then the other seer was screaming.

 

 

Dean paused only long enough to grab his flare gun and then he was running outside. Sam grabbed at the closest item of clothing- which by the feel of it turned out to be his hoodie- slipped his feet into his converse sneakers and followed them.

He felt a hand grab his arm and flailed slightly before realizing that it was just Dean.

“Bastard got the girl, stay close.”

He nodded, shivering lightly in the cold of the night with just his boxers to cover his leg and reminded himself that Dean had to be worse off; after all, the hunter had rushed out without his jacket or jeans. He tried to keep up with the chasing hunters, stumbling lightly but Dean was barely giving him enough time to recover; pushing him relentlessly as he hurried after the monster.

Sam yelped when a thorny shrub grazed his bare calf and felt Dean slow slightly; there was no other sound around except for the harsh sound of their own breathing. He felt the hunter entangle their fingers together- Dean’s left with Sam’s right.

“Why don’t you use your sight? There’s no one around and it’ll keep you from tripping.”

Sam obediently let his eyes flare blue, the forest coming alive around them in a way he rarely experienced. He could see the trail of broken branches and twisted shrubs that the wendigo had left in its wake and with his powers un-tethered, he could  _feel_ its presence up ahead.

They chased it to an abandoned mine and cautiously stepped inside, guessing it was the thing’s lair. There was a clatter of falling rocks up ahead and Dean hurried up, his fingers slipping from Sam’s grasp. Sam’s knees buckled the second he lost contact with the hunter, the blinding pain taking him by surprise.

He heard Dean pause as he noticed Sam’s graceless descent. “Sammy?”

“Go, I’ll manage.” He managed to gasp; eyes scrunched shut tightly against the pain.

“Stay,” The hunter told him, chasing up ahead.

Sam didn’t like sitting there like a duck but without Dean’s presence to mitigate it, he was in too much pain to move. So, he simply curled into himself as he cowered on the rocky floor; eyes scrunched shut and ears straining. He heard muffled screams and then the loud report of a gun firing followed by a piercing shriek. Soon enough footsteps were hurrying towards him.

“Sam, roll!” Dean called and he obeyed without hesitance.

He felt the texture of the ground change from stone to wood- _which creaked ominously under his weight-_ but before he could warn, he felt a heavy weight slam into him. He felt the wooden plank shake from the impact before a second body – _this one reeking of dirt and blood-_ landed on them.

Sam wasn’t sure how, or exactly what happened but the next thing he knew; they were all tumbling down. He heard Dean’s pain-filled yell and then the hunter was rolling them. The momentum from the fall carried them forward till they hit a boulder and both men took a moment to get their bearings.

“You ‘kay?” Dean asked; voice pinched from his own injury.

“Yeah, yeah...” Sam answered, as he catalogued himself- there were going to be a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing was bleeding or felt fractured. “Wendigo?”

**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean glanced behind them at the question, taking in the impaled creature. It was a miracle he or Sam hadn’t been injured similarly. The wendigo was snarling and struggling; but in vain, the only thing that the creature’s struggles ensured was to tear it further on the iron poles it was trapped in. He looked away when one of the spikes emerged from what was the thing’s ‘neck’; apparently damaging its vocal cords because while the wendigo still continued to struggle futilely, it was no longer audible apart from a grotesque gurgling sound produced from its ruined throat.

“I do not have any more flares,” he admitted.

“Do you think it’s going to come after us?” 

“No, but it would be a mercy to kill it now,”

Sam nodded. They were both silent for a moment before the seer spoke again, “Where are you hurt?”

“Huh?”

“Oh don’t lie... I heard you scream. Besides, I can smell the blood.”

Dean ducked his head, shaking it fondly, “My leg.”

“Show me,” Sam held out his hand.

Dean guided it to the long gash on his thigh, wincing when the boy’s fingers touched the frayed tissue. He was taken aback when a blue glow abruptly came on, and he realized that Sam was using his powers to actually ‘ _see’_ his injury.

“It’s bad,”

“I’ll survive,”

The iridescent blue gaze met his, “Not the way you’re bleeding, no.”

“Well, it’s not like we can do anything ‘bout it.” He shrugged. The blue glow turned away from his leg and Dean sighed, “Don’t worry; I’ve made provisions so that you go to Bobby instead of PACMan in case anything happens to me. You- _ow!”_

_ The boy’s fingers had dug into his leg till the pressure had caused his injury to flare up again. _

He glanced up to find Sam’s sightless eyes glaring at him, “Stop talking like that!”

“What do’ya want me to say, Sammy?”

“Say you’re going to let me try something,”

Dean nodded, “Anything,”

“I read about this,”

“Okay?”

“The Inca’s used to do it when they had a wound that needed suturing,” Sam explained, rising to take the two steps necessary to go to the wall but keeping a firm hold on Dean’s hand throughout. Dean watched the blue glow appear again as Sam searched in the cracks for _something_ and then the boy was carefully picking _it_ up.

“What is it?” he asked, curious despite himself.

Sam walked back and sat down Indian-style next to him; deftly lifting the hunter’s foot to position it across his own.   
Dean tried not to think of how vulnerable the position made him feel, opened up and put on display the way he was.  
Thankfully, Sam was too focussed in his task to notice.

The seer put down whatever he had retrieved from the cracks on the rock in favour of pulling out a handkerchief from his hoodie’s pocket and Dean glanced at it, “Ants? Seriously?”

Sam nodded; biting his lower lip as he carefully brushed the debris and dust from the gash and reached for an ant; which, _Dean noticed with some trepidation,_ was larger than your garden variety ones. 

Carefully holding it from its ‘neck’ – _Dean couldn’t remember what it was technically called from his high-school biology class-_ so that its pincers were wide open, Sam lowered the insect to the torn skin; his other hand holding the two pieces carefully shut. Dean couldn’t bite back a yelp when it bit him; jerking involuntarily and dislodging Sam’s hand.

Sam cursed.

“What?”

“You broke off its pincer,” The seer grumbled and lowered his head to the wound.

Dean tried not to think how close to his groin Sam’s head was and remained perfectly still as the seer carefully pulled it out with his teeth.

“Now, hold still; alright?” Sam told him as he reached for another ant.

“It hurts,” Dean found himself protesting petulantly.

“Stop being a sissy,” Sam told him and repeated his actions.

Dean held still this time, having a decent idea of what to expect; and watched as Sam twisted the little body to neatly decapitate the ant, leaving it head holding together the two sides of Dean’s torn skin.

The seer got up twice to fetch more ants but kept repeating the action till there was a neat row of ant-heads marching down Dean’s leg; his thigh a mass of tingling and twitching muscle from the sting of the bites on his already inflamed skin. Once done, Sam sat back to admire his work. 

Dean had to admit that it was a passable solution given his leg had stopped bleeding and the frayed edges of his skin were held together as firmly as possible without the aid of actual stitches.   


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
“How’s the head?” Dean asked lowly.

Sam shrugged: given he had been using his powers without a break for nearly an entire hour, his headache was surprisingly manageable; but then again that might be because he had been in contact with Dean the entire time.

He shivered lightly in the chill of the damp cave and curled closer to the hunter, “Next time-  _and I don’t care what happens-_ we are stopping long enough to pull on our pants.”

The hunter chuckled but didn’t protest.

Sam tucked his head further into Dean’s shoulder, the single hoodie spread across both their torsos in a poor mimicry of a blanket; both of Sam’s legs and Dean’s un-injured leg tucked close to their body to preserve as much body heat as possible.

The wendigo had long fallen silent, and they both hoped it wasn’t just bidding it’s time for them to creep closer.

“Rest, I’ll keep watch,” Dean murmured, curling his arm around him and shifting till he was sitting with his back to one of the boulders lining the mine’s wall while Sam was resting against him.

“You’re the injured one,” Sam protested, but obediently closed his eyes.

He had apparently dozed off because he roused with Dean shaking him lightly, “Rescue’s here.”   


  
[ **Next** ](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/35284.html)   



	8. Amaurosis: Chapter-5

** Chapter- 5 **

  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean grabbed the day’s paper from the stand as he and Sammy took their seats in the diner, both of them glad to have shed Walt and Roy’s company.

 The other hunters had paused to change into hunting gear and grab their spare ammunition when he and Sam had given chase after the wendigo; which was why they had found themselves without backup once they had fallen through the old mine’s shaft. Dean had already killed one of the creatures before returning for Sam and the other one had ended up impaled on the spikes when it had followed them through the wooden floor. Walt and Roy had managed to pick their trail and find the mine and dispatch the last of the creatures before they had stumbled upon Sam and Dean. They had burnt the impaled wendigo and hauled them out; then proceeded to tease Dean mercilessly for chasing after a wendigo in just a tee-shirt and boxers. Neither of the two had mentioned the loss of the female seer and while Dean hadn’t said anything, that attitude had rubbed him wrong.

“C’mon, Sammy; it’s ‘kay... even the doctor said as much.”

They had stopped at a clinic to get Dean’s leg looked at (although the hunter had taken the precaution of stitching it up to avoid awkward questions); and Sam had been tight-lipped since.

 

“It’s not that,”

“Then?” Dean prompted.

“You...” He trailed off, evidently sensing the waitress appearing with their order. He began once she had left, “You‘d said something about telling me _why_ you got me once we were out of there?”

“Hmmm,” Dean answered, “And I-” He froze as he stared at the day’s paper.

“What?”

“Uh...”

“Dean, you’re freaking me out, man. What is it?”

He shook his head, tearing away his gaze from the date stamped on the day’s paper, “its Sammy’s birthday...”

“How on earth do you even _know_ that?!” Sam protested, tossing a sauce smeared French-fry in his direction with surprising accuracy- especially considering the he couldn’t see. “I don’t remember telling you my birthday-”

Dean looked up at that, “It’s _your_ birthday too?”

“What d’ya mean _‘too’_ ; you said-... wait does that mean you know another ‘ _Sammy’?_ ”

“No,” Dean protested sharply before amending, “Yes... I mean,” He exhaled noisily; it was hard to imagine he had not remembered or thought of _him_ for a whole day, “My little brother is called Sam.”

“You have a _brother?!”_

“Had. _Have...._ it’s complicated.”

“Tell me?”

“Sammy was a baby when Mom died. ... Dad swore to avenge her, and we moved around a lot. It-it was mostly just the two of us in motels while Dad hunted. And Sammy... he was a happy baby. Always a smile for everyone. And he-he-he had these little dimples, you know?”  His gaze locked unconsciously on Sam’s dimples for a moment before he glanced away.

“He was two, near about; when Dad took us to this perfect house. Huge lawn in the front, a big backyard. Perfect home-baked cookies. ... We-... we left Sam there.”   


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
“ _What_?!” Sam spat out the coffee he had sipped, coughing and wiping at his mouth awkwardly. Fortunately, it appeared that Dean had not noticed.

Dean let out a shuddering breath, and Sam could picture the far-away look on his hunter’s face, “Of course I put up a fuss; I mean he was the only part of Mom we had left. And –and-... he was my brother, you know? But Dad explained it to me. How- how sometimes if you really love someone you had to let them go. How Sam would have a better life than the one we could ever provide him. ... I mean he was just a baby; he would forget eventually. And he would be happy. Who was I to take that from him?”

“What about you? Why didn’t they adopt you too?”

“I was six at the time.” Dean shrugged, “And far from a happy bouncing baby like Sammy. I had _seen_ what happened to Mom and it-... it changed me. I- I guess you could say I’d grown up the night we lost Mom, ‘cause I sure as hell don’t remember being a kid.”

“I’m sorry,”

“Anyway, so that’s why umm... there’d not been a day that I didn’t think of him... not till I met you, at least.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I- uh... I don’t know why exactly, but you reminded me of him; my brother.”

Sam felt his face heat up. “I wish I _was_ your brother.” He shrugged.

“You share the same birthday, apparently.” Dean pointed out, forcing a chipper tone as he questioned, “So; what do you wanna do, birthday boy?”

Sam shrugged, ducking his head as he confessed, “Is it pathetic that you‘ve made it my best birthday so far just by saying that?”

Dean very carefully avoided that can of worms, “We’ll make today amazing, okay? Let’s do something fun.”

And it was. Dean told the waitress, who got him a free scoop of ice-cream and made the staff sing him the birthday song. Then they went to a book reading by some famous author (Sam didn’t really care who, he was too busy enjoying Dean’s company; although the bit that the author read about _wars_ and _dire wolfs_ interested Sam enough that Dean got the audio version of the book for him) because he was apparently ‘geek-boy’. From there, they drove along the highway with the windows turned down and (Dean’s) music turned up; singing along at the top of their lungs when the mood struck. Dean stopped by a lake at some point and they escaped the sweltering mid-day heat by skinny-dipping: the cool water heavenly on their sweaty skin. Dean offered to buy him a night with a hooker/stripper but Sam reneged in favour of one of Dean’s awesome massages. 

“You never told me what you got me for,” Sam murmured as they retired for the night, feeling boneless and utterly relaxed after the massage.

“It’s not suitable topic to discuss on your birthday,” Dean whispered, curling behind him and switching off the lights, “Good night, kiddo. Hope you had a good time today.”   


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean lay awake for a long time after Sam dropped off to sleep; anxious about the impending conversation. Sam didn’t say much, but it was obvious that the boy felt betrayed by his family for giving him away. _And,_ he guessed, _it was only natural._

He couldn’t help but wonder if his brother felt similarly. _If Sammy knew about them at all, that is._

He had always imagined his little brother would grow up strong and confident and at first the seer had reminded him so much of the little runt that it had been painful. It had been one of the reasons Sam had gotten under his skin as quickly as he had. But then it became obvious that the confidence was only superficial.

He sighed as he closed his eyes, trying to picture what Sammy would look like now... the kid had had their mother’s smile- bright and joyful. Dean hoped Sammy had a lot of reasons to smile.

 

 

He woke to warm sunshine on his face and soft fingers stroking his head, uncertain when he had fallen asleep. “Morning,” He mumbled.  
“Morning,” was the chipper response.

He jerked slightly in surprise as Sam leaned down to place a close-mouthed kiss on his forehead and knew he would forever wonder if the boy had missed his intended target or actually meant to kiss his forehead. Not sure which answer he himself would prefer: _any other day_ , _he would have hoped for the former- after all Sam was  easy on the eyes(VERY easy, a voice whispered inside his head); but after a night spent thinking of his little brother, it felt wrong_ _to get involved his namesake._ And so, he kept silent.

“You know, I was thinking...” he began.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe... maybe your family left you for adoption because they thought you would have a better life that way than they could provide...”

He watched the surprise then shock then anger and then resignation settle on Sam’s face, “That’s what you’ve been thinking about all night?”

Dean shrugged, “I was thinking of my brother ... and how it’s possible that he resents us the way you resent your family. ... and-” He shrugged again, “I- I know it’s not my place; but I just thought this might be something you ... uh... something you may not have considered?”

“Thank you, really. But no,” Sam returned, blinking rapidly to hide the wetness in his eyes.

Dean chose not to acknowledge it.

It was a few minutes before the younger man turned to face him again, “I know you only want to help, Dean; but you can’t do that without all the facts. And I- I kept a few details to myself... like- like the fact that my family didn’t actually ‘ _give’_ me away. They sold me.”

Dean drew in a sharp breath at the revelation, “What?”

“They sold me.” Sam repeated, and this time the tears trickled down his cheeks unhindered, “For the princely sum of one hundred dollars.”  


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam kept his eyes closed even if it was a meaningless gesture; not wanting to find out what Dean’s reaction was after he confessed to how worthless he really was that even his own family had not wanted him. He jerked when he felt warm hands pulling him back against a firm chest but leaned back gratefully when Dean didn’t offer empty sympathies and chose to simply hold him instead.

It took a few minutes but eventually, he had composed himself enough to ask, “Breakfast?”

“How ‘bout we stop at a drive-thru; that works for you?”

“Can I have donuts? With sprinkles?”

He heard Dean chuckle as the hunter shook his head fondly, “Yes. God, you and your sweet-tooth... you’re going to end up weighing a thousand pounds and need to be lifted with a crane if you keep this up!”

“I’m a growing boy,” He returned, patting his washboard flat abdominals.

“Grow anymore and I’ll have to cut a hole in the Impala’s roof for you,” Dean laughed as he gathered their things and carried them out before returning to escort Sam to the car.

 

“Where are we going?” Sam asked, licking the last of the sugar crystals off his fingers and relaxing against the leather bench-seat with a satisfied little burp. He blushed, “Excuse me,”

“Bobby has a fishing cottage; it’s isolated enough for our purpose,”

“Um-hmmm,” Sam nodded, “And what purpose is that?”

“You wanted to know why I got you, apart from the obvious-” Dean began, “And the answer is... well, I need you to find my brother,”

“You got me because you want a family re-union?” Sam frowned, “Why not simply ask your father?”

“Dad’s dead,” Dean answered, voice carefully devoid of emotion and Sam felt a pang of guilt at having revived an obviously painful memory.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know-”

“I shot him,” Dean interrupted.

Sam felt his mouth drop open in surprise. He worked his jaw a few times to say something suitable in response, but couldn’t find the words.

“He was possessed.” Dean continued after a long minute- long enough that Sam was sure he wasn’t going to say anything further on the subject, “He was killing Cas,”

“Oh,”

“It’s – it’s possible to exorcise a demon by shooting it while it is possessing someone. It kills the host; but Dad had been after this demon for so long- it was the same bastard that killed mom... I shot him through the heart.”

“It’s what he would have wanted,” Sam murmured, unsure of what else to say.

Dean nodded, acknowledging the words but continued, “The demon smoked out before the bullet pierced his heart.”   
Sam felt sick.

“It was torturing Cas while using my Dad as it’s meat-suit, so I guess I do have an excuse for shooting him; but it was too little too late: Cas didn’t survive his injuries. And Dad...” Dean paused to exhale quietly before finishing, “Dad died from my bullet.”

“Pull over.”   


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean wordlessly held back his hair as Sam threw up on the side of the road. Once the seer was done, he offered him one of the sealed bottles of water he had picked up on an earlier stop at a Gas n’ Sip and watched the boy rinse his mouth before drinking a large gulp.

He stepped back once Sam straightened, unsure if the boy would appreciate his touch now that he had confessed to patricide.

“So now you want to reconcile with your long-lost brother?” The seer questioned after awhile when they had driven for some time.

“ _What?!_ ” He jumped at the unexpected question. Given the silence that had permeated the car after his confession; he had anticipated some question or sentiment on the same topic, so Sam’s actual words caught him completely from the left field.

“You lost your seer and your father,” Sam shrugged, “So you want to reconnect with the only family you have left.”

Dean swallowed down the sob that rose, overwhelmed by the boy’s easy acceptance of his story, “No...” He managed after a moment.

“No?”

“No.” He shook his head, turning at the mostly obscured gate and driving down the leaf-covered drive (evidently Mother Nature was doing her best to reclaim the drive as part of the forest that surrounded the cabin). He waited till they were parked in front of the old cottage, stepping out to feel the moist air on his face and opening the passenger door in a silent invite for Sam to join him. “The... the demon said a few things while it was possessing Dad.”

“About your brother?” Sam questioned, eyebrow quirked in surprise.

Dean nodded, “Yeah... it said something about Sammy being ‘ _chosen’_...”

“You want to be a knight in shining armour and rescue your baby brother. And hopefully get your happily ever after.” Sam nodded; smile wide even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Not quite,” Dean amended with a sigh, “I want to save him yes; but that’s about it. This... this isn’t the life I want for Sam, Sammy. I want him happy and settled. Maybe with the whole shebang of two-point-five kids and a white picket fence... and establishing contact might mean having a nasty something follow me to him one day. So no...while I do want him to be safe and happy- _and I won’t deny that I wanna find out for myself how his life’s treated him_... I won’t carve a piece for myself in it.”

Sam’s smile turned sad around its corners as he faced him, “You’re a good man Dean Winchester.”

Dean coughed, awkward as always with praise or gratitude. “So... uhm... as I was saying, I need your help.”

“Of course,”

“And wrangling with a demon is too much to ask of anyone; I understand that,” He continued, speaking over Sam’s soft agreement, “So I have a deal for you, alright? You agree to help me deal with this demon and I shall grant you your sight.”   


[ **Next** ](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/35477.html)


	9. Amaurosis: Chapter-6

** Chapter-6 **

  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam blinked, trying to wrap his mind around the magnitude of the offer: he had heard rumours of the possibility of seers being granted their sight; but it was so very rare that it was considered to be something of a fairytale.

Swallowing, he glanced up, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face as he questioned softly, “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“It’s a big deal going up against a demon, Sammy... and I have a personal stake in this, and you don’t... so it’s only right that I offer you something for even considering doing this.”

“I-” He looked away before turning to face the hunter, “Dean, as much as I’m grateful for the offer, you deserve my honesty. And I have to tell you that if... if I get my eyesight, I’m going to leave-”

“I won’t hold you back,” Dean cut in; “You help me with yellow eyes and I’ll let you go.”

“Yellow eyes?” 

“This demon- the one that murdered Mom... _and Dad_ , I guess; had yellow eyes instead of black, it’s a marker of sorts... anyway, as I was saying; do this for me and you’re free. Hell, I’ll even get you set up someplace; complete with an identity, social security and the works. You’ll have a clean slate to start afresh-”

“All I have to do is survive,” Sam finished drily.

“You _will_ ,” Dean told him firmly, “You will survive and while I cannot say uninjured; I shall promise that you won’t have any permanent disabilities-”

“You can’t promise that!” 

“I _will_ keep you safe, or die trying,” was the vehement rebuttal.

Sam looked away- _what was he supposed to say to that?!_

“If you grant me my sight, you’ll not be able to take on another seer... or is that a myth?” He asked after an awkward minute.

“It’s not a myth,” Dean answered, “And I don’t care ‘bout that. All I want is for my baby brother to be safe and happy. And you to be free, I guess.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll deal,”

“How, death-by-hunt?” Sam snarked back.

Dean laughed, “No, I won’t try to kill myself; happy? _So_ , ....  Now that we have that out of the way, do you want to help me?”

Sam nodded, “What do you want to do first?”

“First, we enter the cabin and unpack.” Dean replied, guiding him with a proprietary arm on the small of his back to the cabin’s door and letting them in after retrieving the key from the under the doormat.

Sam wrinkled his nose at the damp musty air but sat obediently on the lumpy couch while Dean opened the windows to air out the room and shifted the sparse furniture around to make it less hazardous for him.

  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean watched Sam chop the vegetables for his salad and shook his head. It was only in the little things like him feeling the size and shape of the cucumber and the minute pause after carefully placing it on the chopping board that gave away that the boy couldn’t see; the swift, clean movements of his knife were a different story altogether.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Sam told him; tossing a cucumber-peel in his direction with surprising precision and laughing at the wet _smack_ it made when it hit Dean’s cheek.

“How’d you know I was watching you?” He murmured petulantly, sneaking a slice from the freshly sliced pieces and grinning when Sam was (apparently) none the wiser.

“I could feel you watching me,” The seer shrugged.

They lapsed into silence again and part of Dean regretted telling the boy about his plans. Now, the air between them was charged with a breathless sort of anticipation that had both their muscles tensing and appetites paling.

 

 

By unspoken agreement, they had decided to begin with the rituals in the morning and after he tucked Sam in, Dean returned to the main room to prepare for it. 

Pushing the couch and small table against the wall cleared enough space for the circle the spell demanded. The ubiquitous black sharpie that was found in every hunter’s kit was enough to draw the various symbols necessary and by the time he was done etching every intricate character; his back was screaming at him to let up. He surveyed the finished product and glanced at the printout he’d had Bobby send him to ensure he hadn’t missed anything.

Once done, he pulled out the packets of herb he’d purchased earlier in the day from the nearest grocer ( _and thankfully, none of the three rituals they had to perform required anything which couldn’t be found at a regular green-grocer)_ and set about chopping, mincing and crushing the various ingredients according to their individual specifications. He covered the bowls with saran-wrap and left them on the counter before finally heading to bed.   


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam shivered lightly as he stepped out shirtless after his shower, the early-morning air cool against his shower-warm skin.  
“Done?” Dean called from the main room upon hearing the creak of the bathroom-door opening.

“Yeah,” He admitted, following the voice.

“Great. C’mon then, take my hand and follow me, ‘kay? Don’t want you stepping on the symbols and messing up my artwork.” The hunter’s voice was suddenly right next to him and the man followed the words by lightly wrapping his hands around Sam’s forearms.

Sam nodded, rotating his arm in the hunter’s hold till he was holding back just as tightly. He tightened his grasp on Dean’s forearms to indicate he was ready and tried to follow the sound of Dean’s light footsteps to avoid stepping on the painstakingly etched characters on the floor.

“Careful, you’re right at the border of the circle. I’m inside. Lift your foot and step in, I’ve got you.”

Sam obeyed.

Dean guided him two more steps before ordering, “Sit,”

Sam crossed his legs and descended gracefully to sit Indian style right where he had been standing.

“First I’m going to finger paint the symbols on your body, okay? We’ll begin after that.”

“Sure,” Sam agreed. He felt Dean’s warm callused palm curve on his right shoulder to hold him still and then Dean began to work.

“Are we supposed to stay silent?” He questioned, regretting not having asked earlier and hoping he was not disrupting the ritual by opening his mouth.

“No,” Dean answered, voice distracted as he finished copying the symbol he was working on, “Nervous?”

Sam shrugged, then bit his tongue at Dean’s hiss as the hunter’s finger slipped at his movement, “Sorry,”

“It’s fine,”

Sam sat silently while the next symbol was painted, biting his lip at the faint ticklish sensation as confident fingers moved lightly over his sternum.

“Do you wish to stop?” Dean asked quietly before beginning to work on the third symbol.

“What? No!”

“Your heart hammering like a racehorse’s, Sammy... it’s okay to want to quit. I won’t be mad.”

“Any other hunter wouldn’t have given me this out,”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that I’m not any other hunter then, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it is.” Sam sighed, leaning back obediently when Dean pushed lightly at his shoulders. “I want to help you, Dean... it’s just that... I- I’m scared.”

“You should be,” The hunter answered, pausing briefly and Sam could feel his eyes on himself, “We’re going to download Cas’ thoughts and memories into you and he didn’t have a easy life by any standard-”

“Did you love him?” Sam interrupted.

“Who? Cas?”

“Um-hmm,”

“Doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”

“It matters,” Sam countered, “So, did you?”

Dean’s exhale was an audible sigh, “I... I was fond of him, yes... and- and I believe I could have grown to love him given the chance-”

“But?”

“But Cas...” Dean paused, “Cas did not share my affections ... and given what had been done to him, there was no real way for him to ... to respond if I ever chose to display my inclinations. Besides, anything between us would have always borne the shadow of his inability to refuse a hunter. So while I do believe that we were friends; there never was anything between us.”

“And me?”

Sam found his cheeks heating as Dean’s fingers stopped moving and he felt the hunter’s gaze.

“What exactly are you trying to say, Sammy?” Dean’s voice was low- _hushed like he thought anything louder would shatter whatever blessed-illusion he found himself to be in._

“I-” He licked his suddenly parched lips, acutely aware of the hunter’s eyes following the brief flicker of his tongue, “I guess I’m trying to ask whether you think there’s any hope for ... _us?”_

“Is that something you would want?”

“Is it something that _you_ could?” He twisted the question back.

“I-... let’s just say I’m interested if you are,” Dean answered as he returned to work, “And it’s entirely up to you, Sammy. I’d love to explore what we have and to see if we can build something out of it... but I’m a hunter and you yourself admitted you wanted out once you got you sight. _So_.”

“You’d really let me go?”

“If it was what you wanted, yes. But only once we’ve done all we can to ensure my li’l bro’s safe.”

Sam nodded, glancing away as he felt Dean finish with the last symbol. “I’m ready,” He grunted out before the hunter could ask.

“Alright, so remember; whatever you feel, it’s not real. Not for you atleast. And you’ve got me, alright? Use me as an anchor if you need, I’ll be right by you the whole time.”

Sam nodded mutely, parting his lips to accept the bitter herb mixture garnished with a few drops of Dean’s last seer’s blood. Almost instantly he felt the symbols painted on his skin begin to heat and then nothing but agony remained.  


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean watched as the symbols he’d painted on Sam’s torso suddenly turned glossy and bright and instinctively reached for the younger male; catching him as he began to seize.

He curled himself around the convulsing seer, hating himself for putting Sam through this as the boy’s eyes continued to roll wildly. He briefly wondered if he should put something between the seer’s teeth to ensure he didn’t bite and choke on his tongue as in a regular seizure; but ultimately settled for cradling the trembling form and wrapping himself like a living blanket around the boy. Ten minutes in, he became aware of a wet patch darkening the front of Sam’s jeans, followed by the rancid smell of urine; but determinately ignored it in favour of continuing to hold the boy in his arms.

It felt like centuries had passed by the time Sam went still and before the purple-tinged eyelids fluttered open.

“Sammy?”

“Mrph...”

“Sammy, can you hear me; kiddo?”

“D’n?”

“Oh thank God... yeah, yeah. It’s me, Kiddo. It’s alright. I’ve got you.” He whispered, cooing other insensible nonsense as he helped the boy upright.

The wrinkled nose told him the second Sam figured out about his loss of bladder control. “I pissed myself?”

“You were seizing, Sam. It happens. Don’t sweat it.”

“Can... can I change first?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I change into dry clothes first or do you need me to tell you about what I learnt right now?”

“Of course you can change first!” Dean scrambled to his feet, “Here, let me help you up.”

 

 

Dean resolutely kept his lips sealed and refrained from asking questions till Sam was dressed in his favoured sweat pants and flannel shirt and had soothed his rumbling stomach with warm tomato-noodle soup. It was dusk by the time he settled himself behind the younger man and pulled him against himself till they were leaning front-to-back before carefully asking, “Can you talk about it now?”

The seer nodded, pulling at Dean’s hands till they crossed on his torso and entangled his own fingers with the hunter’s.  
“Cas was named after Castiel- angel of Thursday. Because that was the day he was found on the steps of the PACMan sponsored orphanage... He- he knew _what_ he was from the beginning; his first memories lessons on how he was nothing more than a hunter’s aide. They- they had him castrated at thirteen-”

_Both hunter and seer, instinctively drew their legs closer at the words-_

“- so that he was not ‘ _distracted’_ by his own desires. His life after that was pretty much a long line of humiliations and suffering till you got him at twenty-four. He’d been ‘rented’ twice before that by other hunters. One of them even used him as bait.”

Dean couldn’t help his hiss of distress at that: _of course he was aware of some of these things, but Sam’s inflectionless narration somehow seemed to make the reality of Cas’ short life sound so much worse._

“You were something of an enigma to him: you didn’t scream, punch or punish. And you were _kind-_ something he didn’t really have firsthand experience of till then. And you didn’t use him for bait or anything. His wings; always additional points of pain for him given how often they had been used to hurt him for his ‘punishments’; were, for the first time stroked and groomed and catered for.  He had already been taught never to disobey a hunter; but you he obeyed because he didn’t want to _disappoint._ ... I couldn’t really find anything about that demon in his memories except that the yellow eyed bastard has a name: _Azazeal.”_

“Did- ... did he hate me, at the end?” Dean couldn’t help but ask.

“No; he knew your father was possessed awhile before you did. He couldn’t say anything because the demon had silenced him. He didn’t blame you for any of it Dean; Cas knew you were doing your best to save him and his last thought was how glad he was to have had acquaintance of a hunter like you. That he was proud to be your... ‘ _angel’?”_

“I used to call him that at times,” Dean explained, hearing the unspoken question in the words, “ _My angel_.”

“Because of his wings?”

“Yeah, and because how removed he was from the world. He didn’t get jokes or pop-culture references. If I asked how he liked something he’d just eaten, he would answer that it was _food..._ like-like he couldn’t differentiate between the various flavours. And once when our case took us to a Madam’s house, he actually _counselled_ the girls,” Dean smirked at the memory, arm tightening around Sam instinctively as he thought of that long ago night, “Scared the shit out of a few of them, but eventually they realized he meant well. That in his own weird way, he was trying to _help_.”

Sam laughed a little at the description and Dean snuggled him closer, petting his hair, “Thank you for doing this; get some rest. We’ve another ritual lined up for tomorrow.”  


  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
Sam gripped the edges of the towel tightly as he lowered himself to the floor.

 The first day’s spell had gone text-book perfect enough to lure them into a sense of complacency; and the second day’s ritual (the ‘locator’ spell as Dean called it) had been so simple that they had both been sure of its success.  Additionally, it was a spell that could only be performed by seers who were blessed with vision; so Sam was confident about performing it. Unfortunately; the little white ball that bloomed the moment Sam finished the chant, stayed on his palm and refused to do its work.  He tried coaxing it out on the map by repeating the Latin commands it was supposed to obey, even tried waving it’s hand over the map to see if it would take the hint and locate the state Dean’s brother was in, but the disobedient little glow remained adamantly stuck on his palm.

Dean hadn’t said a word but Sam could sense his reproach in the silence that stretched between them.

Sam was exhausted by the time the two hour mark had rolled by and his tiredness was obvious in the way the little ball of light dimmed (Sam could feel the faint heat of it against his skin cooling rapidly).  He still jumped when Dean called it quits and helped him up to wash and change.  
They tried it again in the evening to same results.

The hunter didn’t say anything when they retired for the night, but Sam could sense the unspoken desperation in the tenseness of his muscles.  
“I’m sorry,” He whispered, feeling inexplicably guilty about their failure.

“Not your fault,” Dean returned, pulling him flush in a smooth movement.

 

This morning though, the hunter had been reticent and Sam knew that the previous day’s failed ritual was weighing heavy on both their minds. He offered to give it another try, but Dean denied the offer; insisting they needed to get on with the planned activity.

If everything went right; this would be the ritual to grant Sam his vision and as much as he desired that, he was apprehensive of the changes it would bring. It would also ‘bond’ them, meaning Dean would never be able to work with another seer but the older man had brushed away his concerns on that front; refusing to discuss it.

The ritual was complicated and demanded an exchange of their ‘life-essence’ but Dean assured him that a few drops of blood would fulfil that particular criteria. What had him anxious was the fact he had to leave his faithful Levis off since the spell demanded sigils to be painted on his legs too- Dean’s as well, but he wouldn’t be getting an eyeful the way the hunter would if Sam’s towel rode up.

“Relax,” Dean murmured as he diligently copied the characters from his printout to Sam’s skin; having already finished with his set earlier.

“Trying,” Sam grumbled, holding as still as he could while steady fingers moved confidently just above his knees.

“Nervous?”

“A little. You?”

“Nope,”

He rolled his eyes at the fake confidence, knowing the hunter was as anxious as himself but that Dean would never betray his fears out loud.  
“O-kay, then; all set.  Ready?”

He nodded.

Dean tangled the fingers together, “No matter what happens, I’ve got you; alright?”

He nodded again, returning the light squeeze.

A finger traced the seam of his lips leaving a wet imprint behind but he waited till he heard Dean’s muffled gag ( _damn, that’s gross- the hunter mumbled under his breath)._ The hunter chantilated his end of the invocation in the low, steady vocals that Sam had grown familiar with over the past two days and somehow, that deep voice felt extremely soothing- calming his nerves as he licked the drying potion off his lips and whispered his half of the ritual. For a few seconds nothing happened and he was beginning to wonder if this ritual too had failed when the sigils painted on his skin abruptly burnt hot. He heard Dean’s soft grunt and knew that the same was happening to the hunter.

The burn increased till he was arching his back in an effort to get away from the agony of it; fingers tightening on Dean’s till he thought he would fracture the older man’s bones. He became aware of a high pitched sound and it took a minute for him to understand that it was coming from him.

Dean for his part was stoic; his harsh breathing the only thing giving away how much pain the hunter was in.

As suddenly as it had started, the burn died away and Sam became aware of a faint tingling behind his eyelids.

“Sammy? You okay?” Dean’s voice sounded laboured and his hand tightened on the seer’s.

“Yeah,”

“Okay... good.” He heard the hunter breathe deeply and then continue, “I drew the curtains before we began; but the light may still hurt you eyes, okay? So don’t open your eyes all at once.”

“Okay,” He agreed, his voice sounding reedy and shaky to his own ears.

“Alright then... on the count of three: One. Two... open.”

He blinked; closing his eyes immediately as the light assaulted them and then trying again.

“I can see! Dean; I can _see!”_

“That’s- that’s great, kiddo,” Dean agreed but didn’t lift his head. Sam thought the hunter’s voice sounded guarded. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Sam watched as Dean lifted his hand and held up two fingers, still looking at the floor. To his surprise, instead of holding them in front of his face; the hunter’s hand wavered slightly.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy?” The hunter’s voice was ragged.

With trembling fingers he tilted the man’s face up to meet his eyes and could only stare in horror at the tracks of blood that continued to sluggishly seep out from between the man’s tightly clenched lids.

“Dean?”

The hunter’s hand came up to flutter awkwardly in the air between them, “You seeing okay, Kiddo? Nothing looks wonky, does it?”  
And Sam had to bite his lip because Dean was obviously working past his own pain to ask after his welfare. “Yeah, yeah... everything’s great; Dean.”

“Do I hear a ‘ _but’_ somewhere in there?” The hunter asked.

“Your eyes are bleeding,”

Dean sighed, “Um... yeah, ’bout that... I- I can’t see anymore, Sam.”

“ _What?!”_

The hunter shrugged, “The spell did something... took my sight.”

“Maybe we can reverse it-” he began but Dean was already shaking his head.

“Did you _know_ this would happen?”

“No!” Dean protested, he sighed before continuing in a more sombre tone, “I like you kid, but not enough to give up my eyes; okay?”

“What are we going to do now?” Sam asked, suddenly lost. Dean had always felt so solid- like nothing could hurt him; but the abrupt loss of his vision had obviously not been something that the hunter had foreseen. He wanted to revel in all the bright colours around him; appreciate _seeing_ Dean for the first time... but the knowledge that he was somehow responsible for the man’s predicament cast a pall on his joy at being able to _see._

The older man breathed a few times, obviously shoring up his courage because when Dean spoke there was none of the panic that Sam expected to hear from someone who had possibly been handicapped for life- none of the uncertainty that had lurked in the hunter’s voice when he had confessed to not being able to see earlier. “Ummm... first we’ll get cleaned up. Then we’ll get you set up so that you can pass for a civilian and I can read Braille. And then...” he shrugged, “And then I guess you’re free?”

Sam watched carefully but he couldn’t see a single chink in the walls Dean had pulled up. “You think I’m just going to up and leave you like that?”

“That was our deal,” the hunter shrugged, one hand reaching up unconsciously to rub at his temple and Sam realized that the man was still hurting.

“We’ll talk later,” He returned briskly before climbing to his feet and hauling the hunter up to his. It was disconcerting to realize that he was taller than Dean given how larger-than-life he’d seemed while Sam was blind.

Dean protested his help; preferring to stumble and walk into walls than accept his new-found handicap. Eventually Sam gave up and let the hunter have his way.

He cleared the floor while Dean showered; hoping to help the way Dean had helped him so many times and then waited till the man appeared.  
“Guide me to bed?” Dean’s gruff request was more of an order.

 He glanced up and had to bite back a smile at how not-so-faint traces of the sigils could still be seen on Dean’s bare shoulders but Sam was relieved to note that the blood atleast had been cleared from his face.

“Happily,” He answered, taking the man’s hand and leading him to the large four-poster. He frowned when Dean released his hand like he was something foul the moment he found the bed though. Then he curled on his side; every line of his tense body screaming ‘ _Do not touch’._  


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
Dean curled on his side and tried not to focus on how the all-encompassing darkness frightened him. He heard Sam’s footsteps move away and then they too stilled and he was left wondering where the boy had disappeared.

The silence was like a terrifying wasteland to him; shrouding him in loneliness and isolating him from the rest of the world. He wondered how Sam had endured this stifling darkness for twenty-two years when he could barely stand it for a few hours. The rest of his life seemed to lie out ahead of him bleak and friendless; after all what good was a hunter that could not see?

_Perhaps the fates would be kind enough to grant him the respite of eternal sleep once he’d dealt with Azazeal..._

He jumped at a hand on his bare ankle where his trouser leg had ridden up and cursed inwardly when he realized that it was only Sam from the boy’s profuse apologies.

“It’s fine.” He grumbled, more irritated with himself than the seer.

He wondered why Sam had not been more annoyed with him when he’d sneaked up behind him like this. His father had trained him with blindfolds but back then, he had always known that the handicap was temporary. To be sightless without that safety-net was insufferable.

“Give me the notes you have on the spell,” Sam demanded, breaking into his silent pity-party.

“They’re on the table,” He muttered sourly. _Looking up spells was supposed to be his responsibility, not Sammy’s!_

He nearly apologised for his sour behaviour when the seer left the room wordlessly; desperate to have some company.

A string of loud curses had him propelling himself out of bed, his momentum making him bang headfirst into the wall before he regained his equilibrium. He began finger tapping the wall lightly to feel his way around into the other room, “Sammy?”

_How was he supposed to protect the boy when he couldn’t even see the threat???_

“I’m fine,” Was the sullen reply.

He walked towards the voice, stubbing his toe on a chair and yelping indignantly. _How was it that Sam didn’t seem to injure himself as often?_

“Oh god Dean, be _careful_!” Sam admonished, appearing next to him instantly and guiding him down to sit on the offending chair to rub gently at the injured toe.

“Are you okay?” He asked; eager to shift the focus away from himself.

“What?”

“I heard you cursing... what-what’s wrong?”

“The spells in English, I think.”

“It is,” He nodded, uncomprehending “So?”

“I only know Braille, Dean.”

He felt a tiny smile bloom at the admission: maybe there were some things he could still teach the runt. “I’ll teach you, get a paper and a pen, okay?”

When Sam appeared with the requested items a moment later; he took his time spreading the sheet out on the table.

“Okay, now my lines are going to be all crooked since I can’t see... and my penmanship isn’t all that spectacular, but you’ll get the general idea, ‘Kay?  I’ll write down the capital letter and the small letter version of each alphabet. You already know the language; it’s just a case of matching the right sounds with the correct character; you’ll be up to speed in no time.”

“Thanks,” Sam’s answer was small. Dean hoped it meant the kid was just overwhelmed and nothing more.

“A-” He wrote the letters carefully. “B- C-”

“A-B-C-Dean...”

“What?”

“Nothing,”

“No, you- you just said A-B-C- _Dean_. I- I heard you.” He could feel Sam’s eyes on him and hesitated, “Didn’t you?”

“I was just teasing you, I-... I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry.”

“Its fine,” Dean nodded, trying to ignore how unsettled he felt.

 

 

_Why had that particular phrase sounded so familiar???_   


[ **Next** ](http://sanshal.livejournal.com/35834.html)

  



	10. Amaurosis: Epilogue

** Epilogue **

  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
_  
A-B-C-Dean...  
_

Sam wondered what had prompted him to say that... it sounded juvenile and _stupid._ But he could hear the clear high voice of a child repeating it in his head clear as a bell. He shook his head to clear it. _It just didn’t make any sense..._

 

 

_It was odd,_ Sam mused, _being able to see;_ he watched the hunter shovel food into his mouth and couldn’t help but grimace in disgust- apparently being unable to see had spared him from knowing Dean’s disastrous table manners.

He had been so worried about Dean that he had not yet had the time to appreciate his newfound sense of sight and as he brushed his teeth after dinner, he took the time to look at himself: a face that was all angles and eyes that seemed unable to decide on which colour they wanted to be. Long shaggy hair that perpetually fell over his eyes and cheeks that caved inwards to form little craters when he smiled. It wasn’t anything particularly hideous but next to Dean; he was positively lacking in the ‘good-looks’ department.

The hunter... _well he could spend hours appreciating Dean’s features, though._

Sharp, _high_ cheek-bones on a square-ish face that was dotted with freckles; the rugged features offset by surprisingly full lips and eyes that were shielded by a fan of long lashes. _Yes, Dean was a real-life Adonis._

He had had a fair idea that the hunter was good looking based on his image of the man he’d drawn from touch, but the actual version was better than anything he could have imagined. He had not known that the man had eyes the colour of fresh young leaves or that Dean tended to bite his lower lip when deep in thought.

The redness of the hunter’s eyes had receded with time; but seeing those knowledgeable eyes blank and unfocussed was still unsettling.  
He emerged from the bathroom to find Dean already in bed; his shoulders tense. Rolling his eyes to himself he joined the older man under the covers.

Dean stiffened even further, “Sammy?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he confirmed.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Ummm, sleeping?” He answered, confused.

“I thought...” He trailed off uncertainly.

“What, that you’d be free of your dream-catcher duties so easily?” Sam forced a laugh, understanding dawning.

Dean shrugged before pulling him in their rehearsed positions, “Smartass,”

Sam just laughed.

_Dean was trying so hard to put up a brave face but the loss of his eyes had hit the hunter harder than he pretended. Every time he thought no-one was watching, Dean’s face lost its smile, head lowering as though to make himself smaller. It became animated again the moment Sam made any sound; his mask of cheerful indifference carefully in place so that the seer was none the wiser about his vulnerability._

Sam let Dean drape an arm around him as was usual but then turned slightly to wrap his own arms over the older man. He wondered about the kind of life Dean must have led to find it necessary to hide even such an obvious vulnerability.  


  
  


**  
  
  
Dean  
  
  
**  
 “Do that again!” Dean demanded; straightening from his slouch to sit straight.

“What, this?”

“You moved something in front of my face just now, didn’t you?”

“Yeah...” Sam answered, “Is your vision returning?”

 

It had taken Sam less than twenty-four hours to read everything about the spell they had performed and determine that Dean’s blindness was temporary. The spell was designed to bond them together, to make one unified team. It was a test of how much Dean was willing to sacrifice to protect his seer and designed to determine the strength of their bond because once he was granted his sight; Sam- _the seer-_ had nothing holding him to Dean- _the hunter_ \- other than his loyalty.

Despite his extensive reading, Sam could not find a time-frame for Dean’s affliction although all the accounts confirmed that the blindness was only temporary. Ultimately they had decided to just wait and watch, Sam utilizing the time to find as much information about Azazeal as he could till then.

It had been four days him complaining and discretely being helped by the seer when Dean confirmed that even though it was not much; he could, at least, make out vague shadows in front of his face. Despite Sam’s soothsaying and confirming that the curse was only temporary; Dean had not really believed that he would get his sight back till then.

“Believe me now?”

Dean jumped, not having realized that his thoughts were so plainly visible on his face. Still, he managed a self-conscious shrug and a smile as he nodded; too relieved to be annoyed at having been caught out.

It took four _long_ days but bit by bit, his eye sight returned. He resolved never to take his eyes for granted again.

 

Having regained his sight, it allowed him to take in the brand new confidence in Sam’s straightened shoulders and the happiness in the boy’s twinkling eyes. _He was going to miss the runt when the time came for goodbyes..._

“So, tell me; what have you got?”

“On the Demon?”

“Um-hmmm,”

“Not much,” The seer admitted, pulling out the thick sheaf containing his copious notes, “He’s planning something...”

Dean snorted, “Knew that much already,”

Sam hunched in on himself at his words, his shoulders curling in on themselves and Dean instantly felt guilty.”Sammy...”

“No you’re right; that’s something you yourself had told me,”

Dean raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more; but kept silent, willing the boy to continue.

“I’ve figured out a way to kill him.”

“You mean send him back to hell,” Dean straightened in his seat, because something about Sam’s tone told him there was more to the statement.

“No, I mean _actually_ kill him... annihilate him, if you prefer.”

He let out a low whistle, “Damn,”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Sam’s affronted tone reminded him of the high-school teacher who had tried so hard to mould him into someone ‘respectable’.  
“All my life I’ve heard rumours about this, you know? Of actually _killing_ these bastards instead of just exorcising them... always figured they were myths. You’re telling me it’s actually possible to do it? Kill the bastard that destroyed my family?” He couldn’t hide the hope in his voice.

Sam nodded, smiling slightly but even that small tilt of his lips was enough to hint at the dimples Dean had grown to adore. “There’s this gun, a Colt designed by Samuel Colt himself. And a special set of bullets. Everything I’ve read indicates that it’s real.” He shrugged.

“Where do we find this gun?”

“The last known _recorded_ location is with someone called uhm...” Sam peered at the laptop screen, “Here, Daniel El-elkiss?”

“Elkins,” Dean breathed.

Sam squinted at the page- it was entirely possible that the‘s’ was actually an ‘n’, “Yeah, Elkins. You’ve heard of him, then?”

Dean nodded, bouncing the balls of his feet, “He’s the guy that showed Dad the ropes when he began as a hunter.”

“Wow,” Sam breathed. “That’s good news, right? We can go to the guy and ask him for it.”

“ _I_ can,” He amended, “I’m not taking you to a gun-fight with the YED.”

Sam snorted, “I’ll just follow you, Dean. I’m seeing this through till the end.”

Dean had to bite down on his inner cheek to keep from smiling, “Thanks,”

Sam nodded, glancing around the cottage, “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,”

  
  


**  
  
  
Sam  
  
  
**  
 “Got everything?” Dean’s voice came from the door and Sam hurriedly tried to tuck the piece of paper back into his duffel before the other man caught sight of it.

“What’ve you got there?”

“No-nothing...” Sam stammered, inwardly cursing the hunter’s sharp eyes.

“Can’t be ... nothing!” Dean announced as he grabbed the piece and took off sprinting into the other room.

“Dean!” He couldn’t help but growl in dismay, a smile threatening at his lips nevertheless as he grappled with the hunter in a childish fight for the piece of paper.

“What’ve you got here, Sammy; some pin-up gir...” Dean stuttered to an abrupt halt as he finally caught sight of what was on the other side. “Where’d you get this?”

Sam sighed; apparently the cat was out of the bag now. He perched against the edge of the couch and pouted for a moment before confessing, “Apparently my family wanted me to have a reminder of them- _I can’t figure out why they’d want that though because they obviously didn’t want me_ \- so when they sold me, they left that picture with me.”

“Sammy...” Dean sank into the worn armchair, eyes still locked on the picture.

Something about the hunter’s tone had him taking notice and he frowned at the devastation on the hunter’s expression, “Dean, what?”

Dean bowed his head, hiding his face between his fingers and Sam saw a minute ripple spread through him before he was still again. Cautiously he stepped forward and kneeled before the older man, “Dean?”

Dean finally pulled his hands away and looked down at him, his eyes bleak, “Guess what? The second spell worked, man...”

“Huh?”

Dean pushed the old photograph- with its slightly bent edges and frayed sides back into his hands, “The man in the picture... that’s...- it’s John Winchester.”

Sam could only blink.

“The kid next to him is me,” Dean continued, “And the infant in my lap is... my little brother, Sammy.”

Sam swallowed, digesting the words silently. He could see no falseness in the hunter’s eyes but his eyes kept being drawn back to the photograph. He took in a shuddering breath, glancing away before meeting Dean’s eyes again, “You didn’t know your brother was a seer?”

Dean shook his head, “Sammy...- _you-_ always responded to me. Turned your little head whichever direction I moved and followed me around like a puppy. ..I- I never suspected-”

“And you didn’t know about the money?”

Dean shook his head, “No, I- I never wanted for my little brother to be adopted out, Sammy.  Once Dad explained it to me why we would not be going back for you, I stopped speaking. Didn’t utter a single word for... _months, I guess._ I remember Dad had to take me to a doctor, because he was worried; but it wasn’t like I _couldn’t_ talk- just... I didn’t see the point of it anymore, you know? Without your happy gurgles and babbling, I just.”  Dean sighed, eyes far away, “And I don’t think Dad actually _sold_ you, y’know? Maybe the family gave him money, _we sure were always short on it growing up_ \- but he didn’t give you away because of some measly green-paper. Dad loved you too much for that.”

Sam got up to sit next to his brother- _brother; wow, that certainly sounded good-_ shoulders brushing; “I believe you.”

And Dean’s version certainly made sense: he wouldn’t be surprised if his adopted family told him that lie about his father _selling_ him to make him miserable; they undoubtedly held no sympathy for him after realizing that he was a seer. What surprised him was that _neither_ of them realized how well their stories meshed together: in hindsight- except for the seer-thing, it should have been obvious. _Hell, he and Dean’s brother shared the same birthday_!

“Do you hate me?”

Dean’s voice brought him out of his musing, “What?”

“Do you hate me- _us-_ for giving you away?”

Sam shook his head, “No, I- I never actually hated my family, Dean... it’s just... it just hurt so much to think I wasn’t wanted-”

“But you were. You were wanted, Sammy.” Dean interrupted, “we wanted you so much.  ... We just honestly thought it would be better-”

“I know,” he cut in, “it’s okay,”

Dean nodded.

“So... what now?” Sam questioned finally.

“Now, first we get the Colt from Elkins and then we’ll go after that yellow-eyed bastard.”

Sam smiled faintly, remembering how Dean had so far always insisted that he would leave Sam behind when the time for the final confrontation with the demon came, “ _We_?”

Dean nodded; eyes bright as he covered Sam’s hand where it lay on the chair’s arm with his own, “The Winchester brothers. _Together.”_

Sam couldn’t help but return the grin- ‘ _together’_ sounded so good, “The world better watch out.”

**_ The end. _ **


End file.
